She Sells Sanctuary
by beyondthesea1
Summary: Sometimes heroes are nothing more than flesh and bone.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: I started this fic many, many years ago but never finished it. Then I left Voyage for another fandom and wrote several fics over there. Last summer, while recovering from surgery, I rediscovered my love of Admiral Nelson and started writing Voyage again. You could definitely say that Richard Basehart provided the motivation and posting the first chapter on what would have been his 100__th__ birthday was added incentive._

_This is a sequel of sorts to "A Midsummer Day's Dream" since it picks up and runs with a premise started there. However, it's not necessary to have read that story in order to follow this one, although it might help to know how certain characters feel about others. This takes place in S2 sometime after the episode, "The Deadliest Game". _

_Admiral Nelson and the characters from Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea do not belong to me. I get nothing from this but the joy of don't own Voyage and get nothing from this but the joy of writing Harriman Nelson. Special thanks to N. for giving it a much needed read through but as usual, I added more after the fact so any mistakes are mine and mine alone. _

* * *

Lacking the strength to lift his aching head, Harriman Nelson watched with surreal fascination as drop after red drop fell onto the floor, splattering like a starburst between his feet. It took him several unfocused minutes to realize it was blood. _His_ blood.

Someone moved into his line of sight—a woman with short, neatly styled dark hair—and for a moment a spark of recognition flashed in his mind.

_Angie?_

The woman grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked his head backwards. "He's awake."

The voice sounded distant, tinny, drowned out by the ringing in his ears. He could sense the presence of another and strained to make out this second person. His vision was clouded, obstructed by pain and the awkward angle of his head, but it was enough to make out the tall, lean frame and dark hair.

"Lee?" he choked out before seeing the glint of stainless steel against the dull yellow light. "No, please." He struggled in vain against the restraints.

"Keep him still." The voice was heavily accented—not at all like Lee Crane's.

The grip on his hair tightened and his head went back further. Now he could only see dark water stains on the dingy ceiling tiles. He tried to move but any kind of action only sent flashes of agony through his head, neck and shoulders.

He felt the rush of cool air as his shirt was stripped away and then flinched as the alcohol soaked swab made contact with his skin.

Fingers probed the upper right quadrant of his chest, drawing out the anticipation of what was about to happen. In the long seconds that followed his mind ran through the possibilities as his body tensed in an involuntary response to the pending action.

Closing his eyes, he winced as the knife sliced into his skin, through tissue and muscle and sensitive nerve endings. He had no idea what they had done to him until several minutes later when his solitary, agonizing cry reverberated off the concrete walls.

**-xxx-**

Chip entered Admiral Nelson's Institute office, expecting to leave his report on Angie Moreira's neat desk, only to find Lee Crane standing in the middle of the room.

"The admiral's late," Lee said, staring at his watch and not looking up at Chip. "He was supposed to check in an hour and a half ago."

"He's at a research conference in San Francisco. Anything could have happened."

_Anything._ That's precisely what troubled Lee. Monty Jacobs, SAC with the FBI, had called earlier and although he stressed it was nothing to worry about, Jacobs had been very insistent in locating Nelson. Lee passed along the conference center phone number but that only seemed to make Jacobs more agitated. As Lee pressed for more information, Jacobs only became more tight-lipped, further adding to Lee's worry-and irritation.

"You know how the admiral gets when he's surrounded by his own kind," Chip said, ignoring Crane's furrowed brow.

"His own kind?"

"Well, you know. Boffins."

"Boffins?" If he hadn't felt that irritating niggling in the back of his mind, Lee might have laughed out loud.

"Yeah, research scientists. Boffins."

Lee rolled his eyes. "You've got to stop watching cable."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

Chip looked around the room, noticing for the first time that Angie's neat desk reflected her absence and not just her customary efficiency. "No Angie?"

"The admiral called a couple of days ago. The conference planner came down with food poisoning and they were desperate to find someone to fill in. She volunteered to fly up and help out."

"Well that explains it."

"Explains what?"

"Why the admiral hasn't called in. The only person who constantly knows his whereabouts is up there with him."

This time Lee couldn't help but laugh at Chip's logic.

Getting a laugh out of his friend and seeing some of the tension ease made Chip smile. "Look, why don't we head over to the Brown Pelican and I'll buy you a beer."

"While you weasel dinner out of me?"

"Hey, I am but a lowly XO. You make more than me, remember?" Chip led the way out, holding the door open and waiting for Lee to follow. "Lee, the admiral's a big boy. You and I both know he's more than capable of taking care of himself. Don't worry."

Lee looked around the empty office one last time for what reason, he couldn't say. It wasn't as if there was anything in the room that could alleviate his worry.

Giving up the unwarranted vigil, he turned on his heel and headed for the door. Chip was right; the admiral could take care of himself. Still, Lee couldn't completely ignore the unsettling feeling. Too many times even the admiral had discounted that feeling only to find out later that he should have heeded his captain's advice.

Jacobs had to have some motivation for wanting to get in touch with Nelson. Although he had been acquainted with Admiral Nelson for several years, it wasn't like the SAC to call for no reason. And if it had been a personal call, Lee was certain Jacobs would have mentioned it. There was no getting away from it. Any way Lee looked at it, all arrows pointed towards some kind of trouble.

**-xxx-**

Lying on a filthy mattress atop a wire cot in the dark confines of the dank room, a frightened young woman shivered, not from the damp chill in the air, but from a deepening, numbing fear. She had no idea where she was or more importantly, what had happened to Admiral Nelson, who had been in the car with her. She was certain he was still alive; she wouldn't let herself think otherwise.

Thinking of the admiral and the incident that brought her to the small, windowless, locked room, her fear quickly gave way to pangs of worry.

They'd left before the sun came up in a hired car driven by a man she had personally vetted. Bill Hayes, one of the Institute's security officers, had traveled up from Santa Barbara with the admiral and occupied the front passenger seat on the drive back. For reasons she hadn't questioned, the admiral changed his plans shortly after they'd left the hotel. Instead of taking the much faster freeway for the return the Santa Barbara, he'd ordered the driver to take the Pacific Coast Highway to the Half Moon Bay airport where she would take a chartered flight back to the Institute while he continued down the coast.

Since they were traveling as the first tendrils of light were painting the sky with hints of gold, she'd asked if they could stop at a pull-off just after Gray Whale Cove and watch the sunrise. Bill had protested but the admiral overrode him, saying that could spare a few minutes. It was a brief interlude, a moment in time where she and the admiral stood quietly together at the edge of a tall cliff, listening to the waves crash against the rocks and breathing in the familiar sea air. Having left the conference earlier than planned, she'd gotten the sense the admiral was worried about something but she hadn't asked. And as they stood in the cool, breeze, watching the sun make its first appearance, bring with it a litany of bright color, he seemed to relax a little. Rubbing her elbow, she still felt his hand there, signaling it was time to go. It had been a moment that she'd wanted to remember forever. Now it was just a memory to forget.

Back on the road again, they'd just rounded a curve on an isolated stretch of highway, the ocean on one side and tall cliffs on the other, when their car had blown a tire. Despite the high rate of speed they'd been traveling, the driver had managed to keep the big sedan under control and pull to a stop on the shoulder next to the guardrail. She had thought it was just an accident until the admiral pushed her onto the floor board, pulled a .45 out of his briefcase, and told her to keep her head down. Everything after that happened so fast.

She heard the whoosh of a silencer, the crack of breaking glass, and the side door open. Glancing up, she briefly saw the admiral scuffling with someone. It was the smack of something hitting flesh that caused her to reach out and try to open the door on her side but something was obstructing it. The guardrail, she now realized, so she had stayed on the floor, hugging her knees tightly, too afraid to move. The door opened wider and she could see Admiral Nelson lying on the gravel just before someone grabbed her arms, pulled her from the car, and hustled her into the back of a dark van. Shivering with fear, she jumped when they unceremoniously dumped the barely conscious, bleeding admiral next to her, slammed the doors shut, and sped away. She'd been afraid that they had killed him but the man who held the gun on her had assured her that he was still alive.

A sudden, agonizing wail echoed throughout her room, disrupting her thoughts and making her cower against the wall. She had no doubt that dreadful sound had come from the admiral and tried desperately not to imagine the horrible things they were doing to him or what they might eventually do to her.

Shaking uncontrollably, Angie Moreira had never been so scared in her life.

**-xxx-**

It took a few minutes of concerted effort to lift his head but once he did, he immediately regretted it. Bright, blinding light shining onto his face caused him to quickly close his watering eyes and look away. The sudden movement sent splinters of pain through his shoulders and chest, eliciting a sharp intake of breath.

His throat was dry and sore and his head pounded so fiercely, he found it difficult to think beyond his present situation. How long had it been? Minutes, hours…days? Slowly opening his eyes again, squinting against the brightness, he again looked up and tried to take in his surroundings.

He faced a mirrored wall that undoubtedly hid person or persons unknown but at the moment only conveyed his own haggard and abused image. Someone had wiped the blood from his face, leaving a dark red smear over his left eye. On his chest just below his collarbone the half-moon cut crusted over with dried blood stood out against his pale skin and instantly, his mind recalled the excruciating pain that left him in this fog. He had little memory of how he'd come to be bound to a chair, half naked and shivering in the cold, empty room but he remembered the crash and his companion in the backseat. "Angie." He said the name with a clarity that echoed throughout the room. Closing his eyes, he tried to visualize his pretty, young assistant but the details of her face seemed to fade in and out. Shaking his head, he had to clear his mind of any weakness; he had to show them he was stronger than they were. He heard a door open behind him, heard the click of heels on the tile floor. Seeing her reflection in the mirror, he sat up taller in the steel chair.

The woman put her hand on his shoulder, letting her fingers linger on his bare skin before digging in her nails into his flesh as she came around to stand before him.

Letting his gaze drift to hers, he forced a weak smile, hoping it masked his shock.

"You're not surprised to see me, admiral?"

"Why should I be?" It took effort to speak above a whisper but he'd be damned if he was going to let her win. "You've already proven that you would sell out to anyone with deep enough pockets."

She smiled, white teeth framed by perfect, red lips. He'd once been tempted to kiss those lips. Thankfully, he'd resisted.

Her finger traced the angry cut near his right armpit. "You might be interested to know that earlier we inserted a device at your brachial plexus. It's a very tiny transmitter that affects your motor and sensory nerves by sending pain signals through the three nerve bundles. Unfortunately, it's never really been properly tested. The first subject went out of his head and killed himself."

"Your design?"

"Of course."

"What do you want from me?" He caught the brief wave of her hand just before pain ripped through his body, stealing his breath and causing the involuntary cry to catch in his throat.

"First we must establish one thing. I will ask the questions, do you understand?"

Pain radiated from every pore making the simple task of nodding his head nearly impossible.

"I don't think you understand."

Nelson arched and bucked in the chair as another searing bolt tore through his back. Any idea he had of retaining his control had been squashed; he was losing the game.

"Tell me about _Invictus_."

"It's Latin for unconquered, invincible," he said, earnestly.

"Don't be impertinent! We both know it has another meaning. You and Lamont have been working on the design for months. There was a reason you chose that name. Is it a high energy laser? Some sort of defense shield? I want to know details."

He shook his head emphatically. "No, I…I don't know."

"You're not cooperating, Harry. You don't mind if I call you Harry, do you? After all, you almost kissed me once."

Before he could tell her to go to hell another jolt of pain tightened every muscle in his body, paralyzing him. And then as quickly as it began, it stopped, leaving him gasping for breath against the unnatural strain and fatigue. His skin tingled with needle-like pricks as taxed nerve endings came alive. Even when the pain stopped, he could still feel his muscles contracting unremittingly, as if they were trying to tear themselves away from his bones. Lifting his head, droplets of sweat trickling off his chin like rainwater, he stared at the mirrored wall.

"Don't try to fight it, Harry. Just tell me about _Invictus_?"

Where was Angie? Could she be on the other side of the mirror, watching him, pitying him for his loss of dignity and control, for being less than a man?

Questions, confusion, and pain: it was all a blur. He'd been in a car, sitting in the back seat with Angie. They had been somewhere with a crowd of people and music and she had looked beautiful. _What was Invictus?_ Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate. He had to be involved in it, otherwise why was he here? But other than its Latin meaning nothing about it was familiar. _Where was Angie?_ The thought that they might put her through something like this knotted his stomach. Balling his hands into fists, he tried to speak but the words seemed to be stuck in his head. Concentrating, looking up at the woman with unmitigated hate, he finally managed to spit out "go to hell" between clenched teeth.

Another penetrating jolt ripped through him, tearing an agonizing scream from his throat and causing him to bite down hard on his tongue.

"What is _Invictus_?"

His breath coming in rasping gasps, he mustered all his strength for one last stand. "I don't know!" he yelled back. "I don't know anything about _Invictus_!" Blood sprayed from his mouth as he spoke, sprinkling little red droplets onto his pale legs.

Grabbing hold of Nelson's shoulder, the woman pulled him upright and leaned in close, her voice coming as a whisper in his ear. "Would you like the pain to go away?"

Blood pounded in Nelson's head making it difficult to hear the question. The residual ache in his body was reaching a crescendo. The point where her hand touched his skin felt as if it were on fire.

"I asked you," she said again, grabbing a handful of Nelson's hair and yanking his head backward, "would you like the pain to go away?"

Swallowing hard, the strong taste of iron sliding down his tightened throat, the Admiral closed his eyes, steeled his jaw and shook his head defiantly. His thoughts were disjointed, clouded by pain, but he was just lucid enough to know what she was asking and still, he refused to concede.

Letting him go and tugging on the hem of her blouse, the woman took a step back. "Well, well, it appears our stubborn friend has decided not to answer us. He's decided he'd like to test our device to its full capacity. I thought he was smarter than that but apparently, I was mistaken."

With his hands bound tightly to the chair and his chest rising and falling heavily, Nelson swallowed back the fear and braced himself against what was coming. He tried to focus his thoughts, to separate his mind from the pain but nothing would prepare him for what came next. The cry that tore from his throat, that caused his muscles to convulse and contract uncontrollably carried no sound. He had nothing left.

A few seconds later and there was no longer pain, just an empty whiteness that left him completely numb. No longer able to maintain his control, losing the last thread of resilience and coherence, he found solace in letting go. As his body relaxed, he slipped effortlessly into the comfort of darkness.

**-xxx-**

They had danced together at the reception. As thrilled as she was to dance with him, she felt awkward and uneasy, as if she were doing something completely inappropriate.

"What will they think?" she had asked him, hesitant to take his outstretched hand.

"They'll be envious of the fact that I have a very beautiful assistant," he had replied with a twinkle in is eye and that familiar lopsided grin on his lips.

She smiled as she recalled the now distant memory. No one had ever told her she was beautiful, _very beautiful_, before. She could still recall the way his shoulder felt under her palm, the way their fingers entwined perfectly, the way his eyes never left hers as he led her across the dance floor and later, the way his hand felt on her back as he guided her protectively through the crowd. He made her feel special and for one night, she was. She knew she would never be anything more to him than his administrative assistant. She told herself that he was only being polite and that it was all just the unrequited dream of a mildly delusional woman. But for one fleeting moment, the fantasy was real.

Shivering against the cold, she wrapped her arms around her shins, hugged her legs tighter, and rested her chin on her knees. That had been one brief moment in time, never to be repeated. Right now this dank, dimly lit room was her reality and Admiral Nelson wasn't there to protect her. She thought of him again but this time he wasn't wearing a dinner jacket. This time he was lying on the side of the road, barely conscious, blood oozing from the cut on his face.

Angie wasn't a particularly religious woman but as the cries faded into the darkness, she prayed to any god who would listen.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks to everyone who left a review on chapter 1. I appreciate it very much! To Mila who asked about A Midsummer Day's Dream, you can find it on Archive of Our Own. Many thanks to N!_

* * *

"Chip, it's Lee. He's missing. They checked out of the conference hotel early yesterday morning, a day earlier than planned. Even with traffic they should have been back yesterday evening."

"What?" Chip thought he knew who _he_ was but after several beers at the Brown Pelican and falling into bed a scant three hours ago, he wasn't thinking very clearly.

"I spoke to the highway patrol. They were on the PCH heading towards Half Moon Bay. The car blew a tire, driver pulled off the road, and apparently they were ambushed. Shot the driver. No sign of any of the passengers but obvious signs of a struggle. CHP found blood on the side of the road. Jacobs is en route. Said he'd call when he knows more."

Suddenly Chip was wide-awake. "You said there were signs of a struggle. The admiral?"

"Have you ever known him to go along quietly?"

Chip's sigh was audible. "Not if he can help it."

"Exactly."

"Want me to go with you?" Chip didn't have to ask if Lee was going; he knew without a doubt the skipper was already packing a bag.

"No, I want you here just in case something happens. But alert Sharkey, Kowalski, and Jamieson and have them on stand-by. Once I assess the situation, I'll send for them."

"Doc? You think…"

"I don't know what to think at this point but if there was a struggle, well, I want Jamie ready just in case."

"I'll let them know. Good luck."

"Thanks."

Chip placed the phone back on its cradle and rolled onto his back. Staring at the ceiling, something occurred to him that made him reach for the phone again.. Quickly dialing Lee's number, he counted off the rings, cursing when the answering machine played the recorded message. "Lee, it's Chip. Pick up!" Nothing. Pressing his palm against the throb in his right eye, Chip rolled out of bed and headed for the kitchen with Lee's words echoing in his head: _they were on their way back_. _They._ Angie had gone to San Francisco. She was in the car with the admiral.

Measuring out enough coffee for two cups, he cursed loudly when the glass carafe caught the corner of the countertop and shattered on the linoleum floor.

**-xxx-**

Roger Masgard leaned against the broad desk and flexed his right hand. He was a loyal man – loyal to money. And right now he was being paid a ridiculous sum to do whatever her highness asked. He didn't much care for her or her tactics and quite frankly, he suspected from the start that she had an ulterior motive, but that was what he agreed to when he accepted the transfer of funds into his Swiss bank account. "What do we do with the girl? She's of no use to us." He had no qualms about killing the young woman. It was Nelson they wanted. She was just baggage they didn't need but he was told to bring her along and so he did. He was being paid to follow orders after all.

"Quite to the contrary, she may have information on _Invictus?_"

"Her? How so?"

"She wasn't scheduled to be at the conference. Nelson requested that she join him. Upon her arrival she was sequestered behind closed doors with Nelson, Dr. Quentin Lamont, and two unidentified men for two hours."

Masgard let out a low whistle. "_Invictus_ is supposed to be the brainchild of Lamont and Nelson, right?"

"It's Nelson's brainchild. Lamont was just along for the ride." She might despise Harriman Nelson but she did recognize that the man was a brilliant scientist. "But that does make one wonder why a lowly secretary would be locked in a room with two illustrious scientists for several hours."

"Taking notes?"

The woman shrugged. "Perhaps. Bring her into the observation room. Let's see her reaction when she sees the great Admiral Nelson now. If she does know something, then that could be the straw that breaks our little secretary's back."

"Or his."

Cocking her head to one side, she considered what he'd said. "Indeed."

**-xxx-**

Time held no purpose as he drifted in and out of unconsciousness, always coming to with a jolt, always anticipating the single white door to open and his tormentors to return, bringing with them the threat of more pain. But they didn't come. They were playing a waiting game now, toying with his sense of security and showing him they were in control. The convulsions continued, sometimes so violently his teeth rattled. If he hadn't been strapped to the chair, he would have easily slid to the floor. In front of him a light came on, illuminating one room behind the mirrored panels. He raised his head and tried to focus, seeing nothing at first but a blurred, motionless figure. As his vision cleared, he saw her more plainly.

_Angie._

Letting his head drop until his chin rested against his chest, seeing blood mixed with perspiration matting the hairs on his chest, staining his white cotton boxers, he felt ashamed, completely devoid of self-respect.

Strip away his defenses, his dignity, reveal his weaknesses, wear him down, make him wait; he knew the game. He'd been through it before. The first rule of effective torture techniques is to never actually torture the victim. Self-doubt, humiliation, suspicion: take away his dignity in front of someone he…

Lifting his head, he tried to purge the thought. He wasn't going there. He wasn't going to let them use Angie against him. But already the feelings of guilt were seeping in. He was the one they wanted. She was just collateral damage. It had nearly happened once before; an assassin targeting her to get to him. She'd handled herself remarkably well, brushing off the incident as if it were just part of her job. But this time it was different. This wasn't simply a near miss with a poisonous dart and neither he nor the institute's security could protect her. If anything happened to her, if they hurt her in any way, he'd be powerless to stop them. Powerless. The single word repeated through his brain like some sort of mantra until he realized he was saying it out loud. He could shake away the thoughts but he could not shake away the images of Angie, hurt, alone, scared.

"No!" he shouted to the empty room. "No, no, no!" He wasn't going to play this game. She was his secretary and while he cared about her and felt responsible for her safety, he wasn't in love with her. That was against protocol. Feeling the perspiration run down his nose and drip onto his chin, he let his head drop once more and laughed at the joke. Protocol, decorum, they'd always been barriers to him. Even now.

He'd tried to break down the barrier at least temporarily. San Francisco wasn't Santa Barbara. They might have known him at the conference but no one knew Angie. So he had ignored protocol and asked her to dance. He'd wanted to ask her ever since he spied her trying to mingle with some of the guests. She was breathtaking in the black dress and when he'd maneuvered his way to her, she had looked both relieved and surprised. He never could resist a damsel in distress.

They had danced but when the music ended, he could sense her uneasiness. He might have tried to break down a barrier but she could not. He should have known better. He was her boss; she was his subordinate.

And never the twain shall meet.

**-xxx-**

Angie entered the room hesitantly, encouraged by a not too gentle push. Behind her the door slammed shut.

Immediately, her eyes fell upon him, slumped forward in the chair in the middle of the room, nearly naked, bloodied and bruised, muttering to himself. Feeling both embarrassed and uneasy, as if she were intruding on his privacy, she quickly looked away. Perhaps this was to be her torture: seeing the man she most admired divested of his dignity and broken into nothing more than an empty shell. It wasn't right, not for Admiral Nelson.

Standing there, staring at the floor, not daring to bring her gaze up, she thought about the perversity of the situation. She had been in love with Harriman Nelson since the day she had walked into his office and found him trying to type on an old Underwood typewriter. She had spent countless days dreaming of him and now here she was, standing not ten feet away from him and unable to look at him.

"Not so imposing any more, is he?"

Angie turned sharply at the sound of the voice. "What have you done to him?"

"Would you like a demonstration?" She took the device from her pocket and rubbed her thumb across the dial.

"No, I wouldn't."

Ignoring her reply, the woman nudged the knob slightly but enough to get the desired response.

Angie watched, eyes wide in horror as the admiral's head came up sharply, his whole body tensing against some unseen force, and then heard the agonizing, guttural yell that tore from his throat.

"Stop it! Stop it, please! You're killing him!"

"You care a great deal about him, don't you?" With a satisfied smile, the woman did as she asked and turned the device off.

"He's my boss," Angie said. Once unable to look at him, now she couldn't take her eyes off him. Even from her vantage behind the glass she could see his chest heaving, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, as he tried to recover from whatever she'd done to him. Putting her hands over her eyes, she couldn't watch any more. The admiral had always been a very private man. She felt as if she were invading that privacy.

"You didn't answer my question." Pulling Angie's hands away from her face, she continued in an almost soothing tone, "You care a great deal about him. I'll even go so far to say," putting her hand on Angie's chin, the woman turned Angie's head so she could not look away, "you're in love with him." Seeing the slight flush in the younger woman's cheeks, she laughed. "I felt the same way about him once. He's a very charismatic man." The woman picked up a carafe of water and filled a glass then set it in front of Angie. "Tell me, why were you in San Francisco?"

Angie eyed the glass but did not drink. She was so thirsty but she couldn't in good conscience accept it knowing the admiral had probably been deprived of water since they arrived. "The conference planner was ill. I volunteered to help out." Angie worried that she'd said too much but all of it was true.

"So he didn't ask you to go?"

"No, he never even suggested it." Angie noticed a change in the other woman's demeanor. It was almost as if she were disappointed. "It was my idea."

"You spent two hours behind closed doors with Nelson, Lamont and two other men. Why?"

Angie recalled the meeting very clearly. "Admiral Nelson and Dr. Lamont were laying out terms on a usage agreement with regards to the institute's lab. He…Admiral Nelson… asked me to document their agreement. He said Dr. Lamont likes to create his own terms."

"Did you know the other men?"

"No, I assumed they were part of Dr. Lamont's team."

Turning her back to the secretary, her arms folded across her chest, she watched Nelson fight to stay conscious. As sincere as the secretary sounded, the woman wasn't convinced that she was telling the truth. "I don't believe you're telling me everything. I think you know much more than an agreement about lab usage. I think the meeting was about _Invictus_ and if you don't want your admiral to suffer any longer, you'll tell me all about it."

Angie had been subjected to many project names over the years, most of them with little meaning to her but very important to the admiral and the Institute. Some of them, like Project Anteater, had her convinced that the admiral was having a good laugh at someone's expense. But she wished with all her heart that she knew something, anything about _Invictus_. Fixing her concerned gaze on Nelson, seeing his head slowly rise until he was looking at her, she tried to give him her best reassuring smile. "I'm sorry," she said dejectedly, "I don't know anything about it." Feeling as if she'd just signed his death warrant, she looked away from Nelson and choked back a sob. "Believe me, if I knew anything that would make you stop hurting him, I would tell you." Biting her lip, Angie felt a sickening lump forming in the pit of her stomach.

The woman locked her hands behind her back and sizing up the secretary, took a deep, gratifying breath. "Yes, I believe you would. However, if you don't know then he certainly does and soon enough he will tell me what I want to know. I'll take great pleasure watching him plead with me to make it stop."

Realizing his release was never really an option, that he was just a toy for her to abuse, Angie stood a little straighter. "You disgust me. You'll never break him."

The woman laughed, amused by Angie's blind loyalty to the man. "Oh, but I will. The only question is whether he'll die in the process. He has no doubt taken a course or two on how to withstand brainwashing and torture as part of his training but like everything else in his life, it's only ever been books and theories. He's never been in this situation before. What he does, he does on his own instincts and resolve. At some point his instincts and resolve will fail him and he will give up. However, his strong sense of duty and responsibility will conflict and he will concede to death as his only option."

"How do you know what he's been through before? He's been through more than you'll ever know. He's much stronger than that." She realized the implication of what she said after she spoke and suddenly she wished he wasn't so strong and stubborn.

"Look at him. Does he look like a strong man now?"

Angie looked again at the admiral. She'd always thought Harriman Nelson was indestructible, that despite his many enemies and the attempts on his life, he would always persevere. But she could see the starkness of dried blood on his pale skin, the tremors, the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he labored for each breath, and knew that deep down Harry Nelson was nothing more than flesh and bone.

Turning, the woman smiled mirthlessly at Angie. "Our idols often have feet of clay."

Maybe so, Angie thought. But she still believed in her hero.

**-xxx-**

It seemed as if an eternity had passed before someone finally came into the room. He expected _her_ but this time it was a man who loosened the bindings and then left the room. Nelson knew they were watching, waiting for him to fall on his face, but he wasn't going to let them have that pleasure.

Gripping the chair firmly, he lifted himself up and stood on unsteady legs. Stubborn perseverance got him to his feet; luck was going to have to take him the rest of the way. The spasms in his legs became more intense as abused muscles bore the full weight of his body but he managed to take his first steps. With concentrated effort, he let go of the chair only to reach out for it quickly as his legs gave out and he landed painfully on his right knee.

"He won't make it. He'll have to admit defeat…" Arms crossed over her chest, the woman stood defiantly before the mirror.

Using the chair as leverage, Nelson slowly got back to his feet then scooted the chair along the tile floor, the loud scraping noise echoing throughout the big, empty room.

"You said your device could break him. As usual, you underestimated him." The man who spoke had an edge to him that belied his rather passive demeanor. "Lamont would have been a better choice but you let your ego interfere."

The woman pivoted quickly on her heel. "I did not!"

"If it weren't for me, you'd be rotting in prison right now because of him."

"I told you I could do it. It's just going to take more time." She turned her attention back to Nelson, watching as he made it to the steel door, tried the door then proceeded to push the chair along the wall. There was no way out and yet, he persisted in trying to find one.

"How much more time? If anything he only looks more defiant. You know the consequences if you fail." It was a statement, not a question.

"I am aware."

"Then you know the agreement. You have forty-eight hours." The door opened and the man exited.

"Would you like me to restrain him?" Masgard had made himself invisible in the other man's presence. There were only two people he feared; being in the same room with both of them made his skin crawl.

The woman slapped the small control device against his chest. "Put him through the paces and after he starts drooling on himself, throw him back into his room."

"What about the girl?"

"What about her?"

"Kill her?"

"No, not yet. We may be able to use her to our advantage." She smiled at Masgard and for a moment the image of a barracuda flashed through his mind. "You know, I do have a second device," she said as she opened the door.

Masgard shook his head. "But I thought that one was still in the first subject."

Lingering by the open door, she flashed a predatory smile. "I wasn't going to leave it behind."

"You aren't planning on using it on the girl?" Killing the young woman was to be expected but torturing her? Masgard wanted no part of that. However, he knew she hadn't expected Nelson to hold out this long and now the woman was desperate not to fail.

"Why not? Our little secretary has to serve some purpose."

Masgard watched her leave the room, wondering just what purpose the girl could possibly serve.

**-xxx-**

Nelson came to himself with a shuddering jolt, suppressing the urge to cry out only when he realized he was no longer strapped into the chair and was instead lying on his side on the dirty floor of a stinking, darkened room. Confusion, panic and fear quickly gave way to an all-encompassing pain as muscles he didn't know existed screamed in agony.

Carefully, he rolled onto his stomach, the cold stone floor helping to alleviate some of the pain, his shoulder knocking against something cold and metallic in the process. He could hear liquid sloshing against metal and as he crawled closer, he smelled the brackish water.

"Three," he muttered to himself, continuing to repeat the number until its relevance finally registered. It had been a survival course he'd taken years ago:

_Three minutes without air_

_Three hours without warmth_

_Three days without water_

_Three weeks without food_

Thankfully, he was breathing easily and not having an appetite quelled any hunger pangs but he couldn't ignore what felt like a mouth full of cotton. He knew the water was foul but he was so thirsty, he didn't care. The relentless twitching in his abused muscles made it impossible for him to sit up. Instead he reached out with one shaking hand and tipped the bowl so that some of the water trickled over his dry lips and into his mouth. He felt the sting on his swollen tongue and the tang turned his stomach, making him gag, but he drank anyway.

When he could stand no more of the foul-smelling liquid, he pushed himself away and rolled onto his back. His arms and legs contorted in jerky, irrepressible motions making sleep nearly impossible. Rolling onto his side, bringing his knees close to his body as the convulsions continued, he closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on something else, something safe and pleasant.

He remembered how small and delicate her hand was as it intertwined with his, the way her hair smelled like coconut nectar, but most of all, he remembered the way he felt when he saw her. He had never really noticed Angie before—not like this anyway. Closing his eyes, he envisioned their dance once again. If they took everything from him, he hoped that at least he could keep that one memory. He needed something to cling too; something sheltered that they couldn't take from him. Drifting, his ragged, beleaguered thoughts lingering on the pretty secretary in the black dress, he finally fell into a fitful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

_As always, thanks for the reviews, I don't own the Voyage characters but Nelson does own me, and huge, huge thanks to N.!_

* * *

Lee grabbed the shorter man by the shirt and slammed him up against the wall of his hotel room shortly after he'd walked through the door, knocking the framed photograph of the San Francisco Bay Bridge slightly askew. "You knew! You son of a bitch! You knew!"

"I didn't know! I swear I didn't!" The agent's protests fell on deaf ears.

"You knew the admiral might be in danger, that he was driving into a trap and you didn't do anything about it!"

SAC Monty Jacobs spoke through gritted teeth as Crane's forearm pressed against his neck. "I swear I didn't know!"

"Why were you trying to get in touch with him then? Why was it so urgent?"

"I wasn't sure. I wanted to warn him just in case." Jacobs put his hands on Crane's wrists and wrenched himself free.

Lee suddenly felt very foolish for his actions. "Warn him of what?"

Rubbing his throat, Jacobs said, "Not what, who. Or is it whom? Anyway, I wanted to warn him about Dr. Lydia Parrish."

"Lydia Parrish, why is that name familiar?"

"She and Nelson have history."

"History?"

"She's a physicist. Nelson picked her to help with the construction of Deep Center. Apparently, rumors were rampant about the two of them."

"A woman scorned?"

Jacobs shook his head. "They were just rumors. Remember that incident in Weymouth, Virginia three years ago?"

"Do I ever! I spent a tense couple of days trapped in Deep Center with the President and an unstable nuclear reactor because of a beam that was coming out of Weymouth."

"Nelson tracked the root of the problem to a transmitter at the college and who did he run into?"

The light bulb went on in Lee's head. "Lydia Parrish."

"She's a woman scorned but not for the usual reasons. She and General Hobson were arrested and charged but the President wanted Hobson to go down for this so she was offered a plea deal if she gave evidence against him. And there was more than enough evidence to convict Hobson of treason, strip him of his uniform, and set him up in a cozy 6x8 cell for the rest of his days."

"Hobson was delusional. He tried to convince us we were under attack by our enemies and wanted to fire nuclear missiles at half the world."

"Yes, but thankfully, Nelson stopped him. Unfortunately, Hobson had an excellent defense attorney who recognized those delusions as mental illness and played that up as his defense. So he was shipped off to Bellevue and Parrish went to a minimum security prison in Virginia. They underestimated Parrish though. Everyone thought Hobson was the mastermind but he was just a puppet. She was the real brains behind it."

"And she was sitting in a minimum security prison."

"_Was_ being the operative word here."

"What do you mean _was_? She escaped?"

"Yup, right out the front gates. And do you know who drove her?"

Crane shook his head.

"Reed Michaels."

"Ex-General Reed Michaels?" Lee was incredulous. "He was at Deep Center! Pulled a gun on me. He was in on it with Hobson!"

"Seems Hobson had a lot of minions, many of them either still on active duty or working in law enforcement. Michaels was under military arrest awaiting court martial and, he just," Jacobs waved his hand in the air, "disappeared into the wind. That is, until he popped up on the prison security cameras."

"How long ago was that?"

"Eight months ago."

"And no one alerted the Admiral?"

"Lee, Deep Center, everything that happened there and in Weymouth, is highly classified. Only a handful of people know about it and until a couple of days ago, I wasn't one of them. Most of the people who did know wouldn't have put two and two together. I mean, you knew but you couldn't place her name so would you have known he was in danger?"

"Probably not."

"Honestly, I didn't think he was either. I read Parrish's dossier, saw Nelson's name mentioned, and well, I just thought he should know. Unfortunately, I never got the chance to tell him. Found out he'd left Thursday morning. How did you find out?"

"I got the call from the CHP. Said they found a car hired by Angie Moreira, the admiral's administrative assistant, on the shoulder just south of Gray Whale Cove State Beach. You know the rest."

"Well, I know a few more details about the crash. We towed the car into the Bureau's crime lab and our guys went over it." Jacobs pulled a small, rectangular box from his pocket. "Do you know what this is?" He tossed it to Lee.

"Looks like a detonator of some sort." Lee tossed it back to Jacobs.

"Very good. It is a detonator. Found it on the floorboard under the front passenger seat. It was used to blow the left front tire. IAFIS matched the prints to a guy named Bill Hayes. Know him?" Before Lee could answer, Jacobs continued. "Of course you do."

"N.I.M.R. security. He accompanied the admiral to San Francisco." Running his hand through his hair, Lee was stunned. "He's been with the Institute for years. I know him; I know his wife and his kids."

"Yeah, well, now you know his widow. Police found him in a dumpster behind a McDonald's in Half Moon Bay. Body is with the medical examiner but the cop on the scene said it looked like a self-inflicted GSW to the head. We'll know more when we get the autopsy report from the M.E. My guess is Hayes was in on it, had a van or a panel truck following and a pre-arranged location for it all to go down. Hayes kills the driver, turns over Nelson, heads off with the crew, feels remorse for his actions and eats his gun. Why a McDonald's dumpster?" Jacobs shrugged then answered his own question. "Maybe he had a sentimental attachment to the Golden Arches."

Lee frowned at the callousness of Jacobs' exposition but had to agree it sounded plausible. Another detail quickly came to mind. "The admiral's assistant, Angie, was most likely in the car with him." He hesitated before asking a question he didn't want the answer to. "Did you find her body?"

"No sign of her so it's possible she's with him but," Jacobs looked away before bringing his gaze back to Crane's, "if they think she has no value to them, they'll dispose of her." He took a deep breath and let it out before he spoke again. "Just because we didn't find her body at the scene doesn't mean she's still alive. There's a good chance she's already dead." Jacobs didn't mean to sound so heartless but it was a heartless business. Those were the cold, hard facts.

"So where do we go now? How do we find them?" Although they had been missing for nearly 72 hours now, Lee refused to believe either one of them were dead. Not yet anyways. Not before whoever had them got what they wanted. He just hoped the admiral – and Angie – could continue to hold out. He knew the admiral would give it everything he had but Angie, she was his concern. He liked to think their enemies played by the rules, that torturing an innocent woman was off the table, but apart from the occasional double agent, their enemies were rarely women. Who knew what they were capable of?

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, don't go falling down rabbit holes. We have one name of a person of interest and not much else. Intel is working off that information and they may have a couple of leads. I know it's not something you want to hear but you just need to sit tight."

Lee ran a hand through his hair as he started to pace. "I don't want to sit tight! God only knows what they're doing to him! Or to her, for that matter. We have to find them!"

Jacobs huffed loudly. "And where would you suggest we look?"

Lee stopped his pacing long enough to give the other man a withering glare. Maybe he'd been around the admiral too long but he hated doing nothing.

"Sorry, that stare might work on your men but it doesn't work on me." The agent hadn't been completely honest with Lee but he wasn't about to tell Crane that. Intel had followed the money and found a very good lead in a goon for hire named Roger Masgard, but Jacobs knew if he told Crane that, the captain would go off on a fool's errand and then he'd be looking for three missing people. Instead, he said evenly, "Sit down."

Crane looked at Jacobs as if he hadn't heard him properly.

"I said, sit down. Your pacing is driving me crazy."

"I don't want to sit down or sit tight or sit on it. I want to do something!"

Again Jacobs huffed. "Look, I could bring you up on charges for assaulting a federal agent. Just take a seat and calm down."

Lee finally acquiesced, taking a seat in the chair across from Jacobs. "Happy?"

"Yes." Jacobs pulled up a chair and took a seat across from Lee and leaned forward, hands resting on his knees. "So there's more. Nelson was at the conference with Dr. Quentin Lamont."

"Tell me something I don't know." Lee sat back in the chair, his hands on the arms, fingers tapping out his impatience.

"Well, Nelson and Lamont arranged a meeting with one of our agents and another man, an expert in deep hypnosis."

"So? How is that relevant to the admiral and Angie's disappearance?"

"Remember what I said about me not knowing?"

Lee breathed out an exacerbated, "Yes."

"All I can tell you is speculation at this point but I think Nelson suspected he'd be a target so he set up some sort of countermeasure."

"The admiral is always a target. Every time he leaves the safety of _Seaview_ or the Institute, he's at risk. And even within those confines people have still managed to get to him."

"Okay so my speculation is fact then. But we both know how important _Invictus_ is to the defense of this country and if it were to fall into the wrong hands, then we'd be up shit creek. Only two people, the architects who designed it, know anything about _Invictus_ and those two people are…"

"Nelson and Lamont."

"And they were both together in one place. Now, to add to the mix Nelson has his secretary flown up Monday afternoon to take over for the conference planner." Tapping his chin, Jacobs leaned back in the chair. "Not sure yet how she figures into all this."

Feeling the start of a headache, Lee dragged his fingers along his right eyebrow. "Angie. Her name is Angie. And she volunteered to go."

"Did she? Or was she put into a position where she couldn't say no? She just thinks it was her idea."

"Semantics. Does it matter?"

"It could."

Lee rolled his eyes. "Where's Lamont now? Can we talk to him, find out what he knows?"

"We?" Jacobs pointed a finger at his own chest. "I'm the investigator here. This is way out of your depths." Smiling at his choice of words, he backed off a little. "Look, I know sitting back and waiting isn't your thing. If roles were reversed and we were looking for you, I'd have to physically restrain Harry to keep him off my back. And believe me, I know this from experience. But you have to let me handle things, okay? When the time comes, I promise, you'll be right there with me."

Lee didn't like it one bit but hesitantly agreed. He just hoped whatever channels Jacobs was working would bring some information quickly. For the admiral and Angie's sake. The more time that passed, God only knew what was happening to them. Or what had already happened. Lee's greatest fear was finding them too late.

"So getting back to your question, Lamont left the conference not long after Nelson. Hightailed it back to his place in Idaho. Guy lives in some kind of fortress surrounded by a moat! But it just adds fuel to my theory that Nelson was suspicious of some sort of pending danger."

"Or maybe he just understood the increased risk of having the two men responsible for _Invictus_ together in one place. They were both sitting ducks." Rubbing his hand along his jaw, Lee felt the prickly scratch of his beard and realized he probably looked like hell. He hadn't slept since he got the call from the highway patrol and couldn't recall when he'd last showered and shaved. "What about the two men with them? If one was an agent, he should be able to tell us something."

"The agent is currently out in the field, working another case. He's not attached to me so I've contacted the SAC in San Francisco and he's arranged a meeting in," Jacobs checked his watch, "three hours. Still trying to track down The Amazing Kreskin."

"Kreskin is a mentalist. James Braid coined the term, hypnosis."

Jacobs shook his head and frowned. "I bet you're a blast at parties."

Ignoring Jacobs, Lee stood up then quickly glanced at the agent. "I need to pace."

Jacobs acquiesced with a wave of his hand.

Pinching his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger while he tried to absorb everything Jacobs had told him, he still had a few questions. "So the admiral was concerned enough to arrange for a meeting with an expert in deep hypnosis and then return to Santa Barbara earlier than planned while Lamont was worried enough to go off the grid. One thing I don't understand though. Why was the car found on the PCH? If the admiral was so concerned about safety, I would think he would have taken a flight back to Santa Barbara."

"Maybe that was his plan. I did some digging and there was a chartered flight standing by at the airfield in Half Moon Bay. Maybe he thought it would attract less attention if he flew out of a small airport."

A thought occurred to Lee. "Or maybe the flight wasn't for him. Maybe it was just a decoy."

"Might have worked too if Hayes hadn't betrayed him." Getting to his feet, Jacobs hitched his thumbs in his trouser pockets. "Sorry, Lee. I know it's not what you want to hear but that's all I got at the moment." Taking his hands from his pockets, he clasped them together in front of him. "Look, I got eyes all over this area. If Nelson is being held around here, we'll find him." Holding out his right hand to Lee, he smiled when the captain gave it a firm shake, and then headed for the door. Stopping just short of opening it, he turned back around. "I know you're worried. I am too. I've known Harry Nelson for close to four years and just know that I want to find him as badly as you do. Get some dinner and some sleep and I'll call you the minute I have news." Opening the door, he exited the room then poked his head back inside. "Oh, and glad we could end our conversation a hell of a lot better than how we began."

Lee watched the door close, flinching at the noise it made, then stood alone in the middle of the hotel room. Although the picture had gotten a little clearer, it only intensified his feelings of helplessness and restlessness. Despite what Jacobs said, he had to do something, anything. Taking a seat in the chair next to the desk, he reached for the phone and quickly dialed Chip Morton's home number, silently counting off the rings until Chip finally picked up.

"Hello?"

"Chip, it's Lee. I think it's time we get our men up here."

**-xxx-**

"How's our guest?"

Roger Masgard shut the door and sat in the closest chair. "When he's not heaving his guts or passed out, he's muttering to himself."

"Oh?"

"Mostly just nonsense but he mentioned the girl's name."

"Really?" Parrish's interest was definitely piqued.

"He was talking in his sleep. No context, just said her name a couple of times."

Pursing her lips, she considered what he said. "Hose him down and take him to room two."

"Put him on the table?"

"No," she picked up a scalpel and admired the blade. "I want the girl on the table. Tie him up and make sure he has an unobstructed view. I want him to see and hear everything."

Shaking his head, Masgard was about to protest when she cut him off.

"Don't worry about your _scruples_."

"The girl won't be able to take it like he did."

"No, she won't. She'll most likely die. But if I know our chivalrous admiral, he won't let it get that far."

"And if he doesn't talk what then?"

"Well," she said, tapping the point of the scalpel against her chin, "then I suppose the time will come for us to cut our losses and disappear."

"What about them?"

"Oh, I think by the time I'm done with our little secretary neither she nor Nelson will leave here alive."

"I'll tell the men to be ready to go."

"What, you doubt me?"

"I have every faith that you will do whatever you can to break Nelson." _Or kill him in the process_. He knew without a doubt that she never had any intention of letting Nelson go and not for the first time he wondered if she ever really cared about _Invictus_ or if it were just a means to an end for her. "I just believe in being prepared."

"You do think of everything, don't you?"

The tone of her voice sent a shiver up his spine and not for the first time, the image of a barracuda flashed through his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

_As always, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to leave a review. I very much appreciate it! Also, the timeline in this fic doesn't exactly match what's in Voyage mostly because that timeline was pretty squirrely. Many, many thanks to N for pointing out some of my glaring errors._

* * *

With the walls closing in on him, Lee couldn't sit around and wait so he'd gone for a walk down to the Embarcadero to clear his head. The view of the San Francisco Bay wasn't really a substitute for the open sea but it helped. The message was waiting for Lee when he walked into the lobby. Quickly reading the contents, he stuffed the paper into his pocket, and then turned to ask the pretty receptionist for directions to a local watering hole called The Messenger. Afraid he might be too late, Lee rushed out of the hotel and jogged the two blocks to the bar, stopping abruptly to avoid running into a woman with a stroller. Allowing her to pass, he threw open the ornate door and brushed past the hostess, scanning the patrons and not finding the familiar face. Running a hand through his hair, he turned on his heels and was about to leave when the hostess called out to him.

"Excuse me sir, are you here to meet Mr. Montague?"

"Yes, yes, I am!" Lee answered a bit too excitedly.

"Right this way."

The hostess led him up a flight of stairs to an area closed off to the rest of the bar patrons. Sitting in a corner booth and nursing a beer sat Monty Jacobs.

Lee thanked the waitress and then slid in across the table from the agent, anxious to hear whatever news he could tell him.

"I thought you might like a change of scenery. And with a coupon," he tapped his finger on the leather case containing his badge and identification that rested on the table, "I can get us a private room." He reached for the beer. "At least for an hour or so." Taking a sip and then licking his upper lip, he lifted the glass and asked, "Want one?"

"No," Lee said, curtly. Pleasantries were over. He wanted to get down to business.

Jacobs purposely looked down when he spoke, talking in a low voice despite their empty surroundings, and running his finger around the rim of the nearly full glass. "I met with Molina, the agent in the room with Nelson and Lamont. Nelson's secretary, Angie, she's very important. Without her, the project is dead." Jacobs looked up and sat back.

Lee leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and about to press for more information, when a waitress appeared next to him.

"What'll you have, handsome?"

Before Lee could wave her off, Jacobs spoke up. "My friend here will have the same as me."

"You got it."

Waiting until she was out of earshot, Jacobs explained, "If you don't order something, she'll keep coming by."

Not really caring for the particulars, Lee jumped back into their discussion. "Angie? How? The admiral has been working with Lamont for almost a year now. The project is dead without him."

Looking down again, Jacobs once again spoke in a low voice. "Nelson is only half of the project. Lamont is the other half."

Lee couldn't hide his confusion. "What do you mean he's only half the project and Lamont is the other half? They worked on the project together…"

Jacobs' held both hands up. "Simmer down there, chief. Let me explain. Yes, Nelson and Lamont have been working together but they haven't been working on the project as a whole." Seeing the blank look on Lee's face, he could tell the captain wasn't following him. Sitting back in the booth and letting out a frustrated sigh, he tried to think of a better explanation. "Okay, think of it this way. The project is made up of two separate components that, when put together, create one massive component. You with me?"

"Yes."

"Okay, Nelson has the specs on one component up here." Jacobs' tapped the side of his head. "Lamont has the specs on the other component up here." He tapped the other side of his head. "Until they put those two components together, that massive component means nothing. Still with me?"

"Yes." Lee was starting to feel like he was being spoken to like a small child.

"Remember me telling you that Nelson and Lamont met with an expert in deep hypnosis?"

"I remember."

"Well, our Kreskin is really a guy named Stapp and what he did was lock away those specs in a vault deep within the mind."

"Using deep hypnosis."

"Now you're getting it." Jacobs picked up his glass and saluted the captain, taking a small sip. Licking his lips, he continued. "In order to unlock the vault and bring those two components together so they make the massive component, there needs to be a key. That key is your girl, Angie. Now for this whole thing to work properly, Angie can't know she's the key, otherwise she could inadvertently say the trigger, you know, the word that unlocks Nelson's vault or Lamont's vault, at the wrong place or time and that could be bad. So she was put under as well and given her own trigger."

Lee leaned back as the waitress returned with his beer. "Thanks," he said to her then moved it off to the side.

"When she's in a room with Nelson and Lamont and she hears her trigger, then she'll remember everything, including their individual triggers. Once they hear their trigger, Nelson and Lamont will remember everything, every detail, about the project. I guess Nelson couldn't risk conventional security measures for something this important. He needed to make sure that without all three players, the information was secure. And before you ask, this was Nelson's idea."

"So he must have had a very strong suspicion then." Bringing both hands together and resting them on the table, Lee let out a deep sigh. "I wish he would have told me. I could have helped."

"You know how he can be. He would keep you out of it to protect you." Shaking his head, Jacobs half laughed. "Harry is a brilliant man but sometimes he underestimates the danger."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"That's how we first met: trying to get _Seaview's_ skipper out of a tight jam." Jacobs locked eyes with Lee and gave him the hint of a smile before returning his attention to his beer.

Lee remembered the situation clearly. He'd been ambushed coming back from the mountains late one night shortly after becoming _Seaview's_ captain and spent three harrowing days tied up in a warehouse in Oxnard. He never knew Jacobs had been involved with his rescue.

"Harry had just lost his first captain." Jacobs ran his hand down the side of the glass, wiping away the beads of moisture, and laughed. "He'd be damned if he was going to lose you too! As I recall, I had to rein him in a couple of times." Jacobs fixed his blue-gray eyes on Crane.

Crossing his arms and leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table, Lee grinned. "What can I say? Everything I know, I learned from him."

This time Jacobs' laugh was incredulous. "You think?" The two men sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Jacobs spoke again. "By the way Molina said it was all purely happenstance that Angie is even involved. The arrangement Molina made was supposed to be with the conference planner but she became ill. The admiral called Angie to check in and mentioned the planner being sick. She volunteered to come up and help and well, you know the rest. Nelson did not want to use her – it was Lamont's idea. He talked to Angie, she agreed, and because he didn't have a choice, Nelson acquiesced."

Truthfully, Lee was very relieved to hear that. He knew the admiral would never intentionally put Angie in harm's way but with everything Jacobs had told him, he was starting to think otherwise. "Do you know why they left the conference early?"

Jacobs shook his head. "Not really but my guess is that Nelson wanted to throw off anyone who might be watching him. I spoke to the pilot of the chartered flight and he was told he would only have one passenger, a woman. I think Nelson planned to put her on a plane and make sure she was safe and sound and then use himself as a decoy. Unfortunately, that didn't go as planned."

"You mentioned that Angie has to hear _her_ trigger when she's with Nelson and Lamont. This trigger, what if someone randomly says it?"

"That's the beauty of a three-handed game. It means nothing without all the pieces. Angie will only say the triggers to Nelson and Lamont when she hears her trigger in their presence. Oh, almost forgot, Nelson put in one more failsafe."

"And that is?"

"Her trigger can only be said by one person."

Leave it to the admiral to create something so complex. "And this trigger, who tells her?"

Jacobs smiled. "Well, Nelson being Nelson, who do you think?"

"Me?" Lee laughed out loud. "I don't have a clue what it might be."

"Yes, you do. I'm told it's something only you and Angie know. Something you recently found out."

Lee wracked his brain for what that might be, the only thing coming to mind was a conversation they'd had just before she left for San Francisco. Knowing she was alone in the office while the admiral was away, he had stopped by to say hi. She had just returned from picking up a picture that she'd gotten enlarged and framed.

"_Edith enclosed the photo in a card she'd sent him for Christmas and true to form, he put it away in his desk and forgot about it. He'd sent me on a mission to locate some information, I found it, and thought it was adorable."_

"_I don't think the admiral would want it known that he was adorable."_

_She showed him the picture of a tanned, broad-shouldered, strawberry blond young man standing proudly at the bow of a small, fiberglass sloop, its name just visible in dark letters. "He's eighteen there and he's adorable. Edith said it was his first sailboat. He bought it with money he'd earned over several summers. I thought I would frame it and give it to him for his birthday."_

Lee reached over and picked up the beer, taking a long draw before setting it down. Easily recalling the name of the boat, he knew without a doubt what the trigger was: _Sanctuary._

**-xxx-**

Nelson had been kicked awake from a restless sleep and dragged from the small room to a larger room with an open shower. He'd been too weak to stand so instead he'd been dropped onto the floor while stingingly cold water rained down from a hose mounted on the wall. Opening his mouth, he took in gulps of fresh water, feeling slightly better despite the bone-numbing cold that caused his teeth to chatter. When the water stopped, someone threw a t-shirt and his khaki trousers at him and told him to get dressed. Brushing the wet hair off his forehead, he tried to make his fingers work enough to pull on the shirt but the tremors in his right hand made it too difficult.

"Get him on his feet and get him dressed."

He had no strength to fight as they got him into the clothes, shivering uncontrollably as the fabric clung to his damp skin. With one man on either side of him they half carried, half dragged him to another darkened room where he was pushed against a concrete wall. He was powerless to resist the leather cuffs forced onto his wrists and could only watch as each hand was attached to a load binder connected to a thick chain. The hum of a motor sounded in a corner and suddenly his arms were being hoisted over his head until his shoulders burned and his feet barely touched the ground. Water trickled down his forehead and clung in droplets to the reddish-white stubble on his chin and along his jaw. Licking his lips, drawing in whatever moisture he could, he tried to steel himself against the next wave of assault only to feel relief when the men left, leaving him alone in the dark. He mustered a little strength and tried to struggle against the bindings but any attempt caused his knees to shake and razor sharp pains to shoot through both shoulders. His only option to alleviate the pain was to face forward and try to stand completely still. Trying to settle his mind and breathing, he began to work his way through something familiar like the periodic table. He'd gotten as far as the thirtieth element, zinc, when the door opened and a bright light came on, causing him to lower his head and close his eyes tightly. After a few minutes he looked up, squinting to make out the two figures that entered the room. Blinking several times as his eyes adjusted, he felt his stomach lurch.

"Angie?"

She looked up at the sound of his voice, wanting to plead to him for help but knowing it was pointless. He couldn't help her. No one could. As the two men lifted her onto the cold, metal table, she closed her eyes tightly, unable to stop the tears that seeped through. She tried to be brave, to show him that she wasn't afraid. But she was. She was so afraid that her whole body shook and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Opening her eyes, all she could see were the blurry hanging lights overhead but she could hear him. He was yelling with a tone in his voice she'd never heard before: fear. He was afraid for _her_ and that only fueled her own sense of panic even more.

"No, you can't do this to her! It's me you want, not her!" Ignoring the stabbing pain in his shoulders, Nelson yanked first his right arm down, then his left arm, trying to force the cuff off his wrist. But all it did was cut into his flesh. The leather was too stiff and what little strength he'd managed to muster was waning. His knees buckled under him, causing his feet to lose purchase and suddenly his arms bore the entire weight of his body, the pain nearly causing him to pass out. A bucket of cold water was tossed onto him and suddenly he was lurching forward, trying to find his balance as water streamed down his face and blurred his vision.

The sharp, rhythmic click of heels announced her entrance into the room. "You idiots, lower him. I want him conscious for this."

The tension in the chain eased and Nelson's feet were firmly, if not unsteadily, on the floor. Sucking in air, he looked up to find himself face to face with Lydia Parrish. "Let her go, please," he pleaded, shaking his head. "Let her go. It's me you want, not her. She's innocent in this."

Running the edge of the scalpel along the side of his neck, stopping just under his chin, she smiled. "You need to shave. Then again, I like it. Gives you a raffish air. But what I think doesn't matter, does it? We should ask our little secretary what she thinks. After all, she's in love with you."

Nelson looked up at her, trying to comprehend what she'd just said, shaking his head. "No, that's not true."

Parrish turned towards Angie. "Tell him!"

Blood rushed to Angie's ears filling her head with a loud, steady hum that canceled out all other sound. She saw the woman look at her expectantly but had no idea why.

"Leave her out of this! It's me you want. She has nothing to do with it."

"With what, Harry? What do you think I want with you?"

He shook his head, confused. There was something, a name, they'd asked him about before, but he couldn't remember.

"I believe _Invictus_ is what you're trying to remember. And I don't believe for moment that she's innocent. If I can't get what I want from you, I'll get it from her. But you are right about one thing." Piercing his skin with the tip of the knife, she watched the dark red blood drip onto his soiled T-shirt. "It is you I want. I do wish we had more time, Harry. Oh, the things I would do."

Swallowing back the rising bile, his voice shaking from anger, he said, "Let her go."

"Beg me." She moved the scalpel to the V neckband of his shirt and dragged the edge in a straight line down his chest, slicing open the thin fabric and his skin in the process.

Closing his eyes tightly, he choked back a sob. "Please, please let her go. You can do whatever you want to me but please let her go."

"Chivalrous to the bitter end, aren't you admiral?"

"She's innocent. She doesn't know anything. I'm the one you want."

Leaning in until she was merely inches away from his left ear, her breath hot on his skin, she whispered a barely audible, "no" then quickly took a step back and pointed at the two men standing next to Nelson. "Hold him up. I wouldn't want him to miss anything." Turning her attention to Angie, she stood over the younger woman, pushed away the loose fabric of her blouse, and positioned the scalpel. "This will hurt."

Closing her eyes, Angie braced herself for what could be the last moment of her life and silently prayed.

Holding the knife in place against Angie's bare flesh, Parrish turned towards Nelson. "This is your last chance, Harry. Tell me about _Invictus_ and the girl remains untouched." She smiled at her own choice of words.

Unable to meet her gaze, his chin dropped to his chest. "I don't know. I don't. If I knew, I would tell you. I would do anything if you'd just let her go."

"Your devotion is touching but sadly, in vain."

Despite having his arms held tightly, Nelson struggled as hard as his body and strength would allow, all to no avail. The more he fought, the tighter their grip and when he could barely hold his head up, they did it for him, forcing him to watch as Parrish cut into Angie's skin and inserted a small disc no bigger than a nickel. The process took all of five minutes and when it was done, the two men let go of Nelson, letting him collapse in a heap onto the floor. Clenching his hands against the cold floor, the repetitive sound of "I'm sorry" were muted by Angie's screams.

**-xxx-**

The call came just before midnight. Lee, who had fallen asleep in the chair with the telephone on his lap, jumped at the sound. "Yes?"

"Lee, we know where they are."

Lee gripped the phone tighter and sat forward in the chair. It had been three days of waiting, three days of pacing a worn path in the carpet, three days of praying they were still alive. Maybe now they were getting somewhere. Running his hand through his hair, he tried to brush away the last remnants of sleep fogging his brain. "Where?"

Jacobs frowned into the receiver. "I'll debrief you when I see you."

Lee rolled his eyes. Jacobs was playing his FBI card and making Crane wait once more. "Okay, at least tell me how you know it's the right place and this isn't just a snipe hunt?"

It had also been three very long days for Monty Jacobs and he was tired of having his every move questioned. "Look, contrary to what you might think, I am quite capable of doing my job."

"Sorry." Closing his eyes, still trying to clear his head, Lee said, "We're coming with you."

"Why do you think I'm calling you? And what do you mean, _we_?"

"There are four of us." Chief Sharkey, Seaman Kowalski, and Doctor Will Jamieson had arrived two days ago and had taken the adjoining room next to Captain Crane's. They'd been ordered to get some rest so at the piercing ring of the phone, all three men were up and anxiously awaiting orders.

"You know we have our own very experienced team, right?"

"I want my men along."

"All right, all right. I'll send an agent to pick you up in twenty. Be ready to roll."


	5. Chapter 5

_Once again, thank you to all who have left a review, especially Mila and Nans. I very much appreciate it! Special thanks to my friend, N, a huge Harry fan who has been very instrumental in helping me get this fic done. Any errors are all mine._

* * *

"Angie, do you remember the men in the room with Admiral Nelson and Dr. Lamont?"

The young woman whimpered, not knowing what to say. She'd told her the truth before: that she was there to document terms on a usage agreement. But there was more she hadn't mentioned particularly about one of the men. She didn't want to betray the admiral and yet, she did not want the pain to return.

"Tell her, Angie!" Nelson shouted from across the room, making the decision for her. "Tell her everything you can remember!"

Glancing from the shackled admiral to the woman, her breath labored with fear and adrenaline, she said, "Yes, I remember Mr. Stapp and Mr. Molina."

Parrish smiled at the woman. "Good. Now, do you know what they were doing in the room?"

Once again Angie's gaze went to the admiral. At his reassuring nod, she continued. "I'm not sure. I thought Mr. Molina was a lawyer for Dr. Lamont. He didn't say much. But I remember Mr. Stapp talking to me. He showed me a medallion." Angie was pleased that she could remember that detail, a detail that hopefully meant they'd release the admiral and her.

Masgard stepped away, urging Parrish to follow. "Post hypnotic suggestion. If she was subjected to it, then there's a good chance he was too. That would explain his not knowing anything about _Invictus_."

Rage simmered beneath the cool surface as she digested his words. This wrinkle, this brick wall, was not part of the plan. Balling her hands into tight fists, she spoke very calmly. "Kill the girl. She's no longer of any use to me."

Hearing these words, Angie immediately looked to Nelson whose own face registered the same alarm.

Masgard took a step towards Angie and picked up the scalpel. A quick slice to the jugular and she would bleed out in a matter of minutes. Painful only for a second.

Parrish stared hard at Nelson, her eyes filled with nothing but contempt. "Wait!" Grabbing a vial of clear liquid, she filled a syringe and shoved Masgard aside. "I've changed my mind." Grabbing Angie's arm, she plunged the needle into a vein and then tossed aside the syringe. "We'll even the odds a little and let our two problems resolve themselves."

Angie watched helplessly as the needle went into her arm, feeling the burn of whatever she'd been injected with almost immediately. Within a few minutes she could feel her heart racing and an intense heat that felt like her body boiling from the inside. Fear mixed with panic caused her breathing to increase so rapidly she thought she would suffocate.

Noticing her distress, Nelson yelled out, "What did you give her?"

Walking towards him, Parrish motioned for Masgard to hand her the dual-sided, curved-blade knife from the tray and smiled smugly. "A hallucinogen. In about half an hour your little secretary is going to go out of her mind." Signaling to her men to get him on his feet, she ran her finger over the smooth, black handle almost lovingly. Coming to stand inches from his face, she dropped her hands to her sides. "You know, I said I wouldn't hesitate to kill you and I had the opportunity at Weymouth but in a moment of weakness, I let you live. I realize what a mistake that was. I underestimated you on so many levels and I spent five hundred and fourteen days in prison because of my oversight. I won't make that mistake twice." She brought a hand up and brushed away the hair plastered to his forehead, her fingers lingering against his skin. "I had such a crush on you once." She smiled softly, wistfully. "And now, look at you. Not exactly the picture of decorum."

Nelson tried to pull away at her touch but the strong hands gripping his arms held him firmly in place.

She took a step back and in one fluid motion, brought her right hand forward quickly, plunging the knife into his thigh. Leaning forward, she spoke in measured, even tones. "I concede the victory to you but you won't walk out of here." Giving the knife handle a twist, she relished the involuntary, choked cry that tore from his throat, the look of agonizing pain as she yanked it free. "Cut him loose and take him to room one."

The door to the room opened and a non-descript man carrying an automatic rifle entered. His gaze swept around the room, settling on Masgard, and then hurrying over.

Nelson was dragged from the room, leaving behind a bloody swath from his soaked trousers in his wake. Stepping over the mess, Masgard rushed over to Parrish. "We have a problem."

Dropping the knife onto the tray and pushing it aside, she crossed her arms over her chest. "What kind of problem?"

"A helicopter. It's made three passes already and on the last one it hovered overhead for several minutes. We may not be visible to the naked eye but there's equipment that can find us." Licking his lips, Masgard glanced over at Angie. "Look, you're not going to get anything out of her and Nelson is a bust. It's time to cut and run."

Nodding her agreement, she said, "All right, clear everything out."

"What about Nelson and the girl?"

She might have conceded to Nelson but she wasn't finished yet. Tugging at the ends of her sky blue Dior pantsuit, she let out a resolved sigh. "Leave them to me. Now go." With Masgard gone, Lydia Parrish strolled over to Angie. Leaning against the table, Parrish placed her hand on Angie's chin and turned her head so Angie was now looking at her. "There's a man in the other room. He wants to hurt you. He's already killed someone, a woman like you, and her blood is all over his clothes. You need to protect yourself. Do you understand?"

Angie nodded slowly. "Yes."

Motioning to the one remaining henchman, she issued instructions. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Lock the door when you leave and then join us outside."

The man nodded then left to carry out his orders.

**-xxx-**

Sitting in the passenger seat of the black panel truck, his fingers toying with the balaclava in his hand, Lee looked over at the driver.

Monty Jacobs was the least likely special agent in charge that Lee had ever met, which no doubt worked in his favor. The man was not tall, with dark, thinning hair that he kept short, a bland face that blended nicely into a crowd, and a nose that had obviously been broken - more than once by the look of it. Lee wasn't sure how Jacobs and the admiral had become acquainted but if the admiral trusted him then Lee figured he should too. And so far, he had to admit that he'd underestimated the man.

True to Jacobs' word, they were met at the hotel by the ASAC in exactly twenty minutes and driven to a field near the airport where a waiting helicopter flew the four men to Half Moon Bay. Once on the ground they were met by another agent and driven to a non-descript warehouse where Jacobs and eight men from the FBI's tactical team were waiting. Minutes later Jacobs was settled into the driver's seat and they were on the road, Lee occupying the front seat in the cab while Sharkey, Kowalski, and Jamieson rode in the back with the rest of the team.

Once they were on their way, Lee decided it was time for answers. "Where are we headed?"

"Abandoned farm building near La Honda." At Lee's questioning look, Jacobs continued. "Santa Cruz Mountains. Drug Enforcement was scanning the area using heat sensors. The sensors pick up any form of body heat and they found a lot of heat coming from this one particular building."

"And you know for sure this is where they're holding the admiral? How do you know it's not just a flop house for a bunch of migrant workers?"

"Could be but whoever's there is trying very hard not to be seen. We're ninety-nine percent sure this is the place."

"I'd feel better if it were one hundred percent. It's always the one percent we have to worry about."

"Pessimist," Jacobs said, gunning the engine over the clear stretch of pavement.

"Realist," Lee shot back, relieved that they were finally on their way to the admiral and Angie but worried at what they might find when they got there.

"Is that why you brought along a doctor?" Checking the mirrors, Jacobs turned off the main highway and onto a two-lane road.

Lee stared out the side window, seeing nothing but darkness with the occasional house light dotting the view. "I know Admiral Nelson. He doesn't go along quietly. And if they were targeting him, there's no telling what kind of shape he'll be in."

Jacobs glanced over at his passenger. "Speaking from experience, I take it?"

Lee didn't answer the question. He didn't need to. Changing the subject, he asked, "Couldn't you move in with your tactical team and check it out?" Hell, if Lee had known about it sooner, he would have checked it out. Stealth recon was something he was very familiar with.

"Well, that was the initial plan but they have look-outs and we're pretty sure they spotted the helicopter. We had to move quickly."

That news made Lee's stomach lurch. He'd seen it too many times. Clear the premises and leave the victims behind, usually dead or close to it.

Jacobs glanced over at Lee, seeing the grimace on his face even in the dim light of the dashboard. "It'll be okay. We'll get to them." They were the only words of assurance he could offer and honestly, he wasn't buying them either.

**-xxx-**

Gritting his teeth against the waves of pain and ensuing nausea, the constant involuntary tremors that wracked his body, he carefully moved his hands away from the wound, cringing at the sight of the gaping tear in his flesh still leaking blood. It was pure dumb luck that she'd missed the femoral artery but that didn't mean it wasn't bad. He needed to do something to stem the flow of blood but all he had were the clothes on his back. No belt or shoe laces to act as a tourniquet. Left with only one option, he pulled what was left of the T-shirt over his head, tore it so he had a long strip, and then wrapped it tightly above the wound, nearly passing out once he finally got the ends tied together. Using his right foot to gain purchase on the tile floor, he slowly pushed himself backward the few feet until his back was against the wall then closed his eyes against the engulfing pain and fatigue. He wanted to hold onto the faint hope that Lee was looking for them but that hope was fading by the minute. While he had no doubt that Lee would do whatever it took to find them, would he be in time? And what would he find when he got there?

It wasn't the first time Nelson was resigned to his fate. He'd been precariously close to death more times than he could count; he made his peace with God on a regular basis. But what of Angie? She didn't deserve any of this. As the tremors intensified, he pressed both palms against the floor and closed his eyes to the brief assault. They seemed to come in waves now, more frequently but thankfully, only lasting a few seconds. Using the back of his hand to wipe away the cold sweat blurring his vision, he looked around the room. The window where they'd once watched him was dark. The room was empty. He was alone.

_Where was Angie? What had they done to her?_

Feeling an overpowering sense of dread and despair, he ran a bloodied hand through his hair and gave in to the sudden waves of grief. He'd failed her. She had trusted him to keep her safe and he'd let her down. If she got out of there, would she ever forgive him? Would he, could he, ever forgive himself? Shaking his head to his silent question, his resounding, "no", echoed off the white walls.

Hearing the door open, Nelson looked up to see to the two people enter the room. His emotions shifted from grief to anger when he saw the man roughly set her on the floor, place something in her hand, and then quickly exit the room. "Angie," he called, desperately trying to get to his feet only to falter when the pain was too overwhelming. "Angie, can you hear me?"

Slowly, the young woman's gaze settled on him, the look of fear instantly registering on her face. Quickly scrambling to her feet, she backed into the wall, reacting with panic when she hit the hard surface. Bringing up her right hand, staring at the Glock as if it were an extension of her hand, lifting the weapon high into the air, she seemed to forget her panic for a moment, mesmerized by the object.

Nelson reacted with alarm when he realized what the man had given her. Unable to move and even if he could, nowhere to go, Nelson tried the only option he had left. He could talk to her. Trying to steady his voice, he spoke as softly as he could, realizing too late though that any sound echoed in the room. "Angie, it's me, Nelson. Remember?"

The sound of his voice startled her, making her jump. She'd forgotten there was another presence in the room. Her chest began to rise quickly as her pulse and breathing quickened.

He hoped something recent and familiar would jar her memory. "We danced together at the reception. You wore a black dress. Remember, Angie?"

His arms were extended with the intent of choking the life out of her. He was going to kill her – just as she'd been told. She had to stop him. With a resounding boom, the gun went off.

As the .45 caliber bullet immediately tore through muscle, tissue and bone, his face registered first confusion and then sharp, hot pain. Looking up at her, he managed to mouth the words, "I'm sorry" before slumping sideways and slowly slipping into unconsciousness.

Angie could still smell the gunshot residue; could feel the heat from the smoking .45. Looking down, she stared in wonder at the stark contrast of dark red against white as his blood began to pool on the floor next to his motionless body. And then, as clarity prevailed and the enormity of what she'd just done hit her full force, the secretary let the gun slip from her hand and she began to scream.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you to everyone who continues to stick with me and especially to those who take the time to leave a review. I really, really appreciate it! As always, huge thanks to N for her continued support and feedback! _

* * *

Alerted by the sound of a single gunshot and the ensuing blood-curling scream, Lee took off at a full run, sliding to a stop by the closed door. Trying the handle and feeling it hold steadfastly, he took his weapon and fired into the lock until the door sprang open. Rushing inside without regard for his own safety, he came to a sudden halt at the scene that greeted him. Sharkey was the next through the door. His barely audible "Holy Mother of God", as he came up behind the captain summed up Lee's thoughts exactly.

Lying on the floor next to her right foot was a Glock 21. Standing in front of a slumped over and badly bleeding Admiral Nelson, hands covering her mouth, was a very hysterical Angie Moreira. It didn't take much to figure out what had transpired.

Lee went to the woman and gently placed his arm around her shoulders, slowly guiding her towards the door, and then passing her off to Kowalski, who hastily holstered his weapon. Briefly meeting the gaze of Monty Jacobs, Lee wordlessly conveyed everything in one look before turning his attention back to Nelson and Chief Sharkey, who was on his knees next to the man, looking back at him with disbelief and shock.

Will Jamieson brushed past the two men and went directly to the admiral, kneeling on the floor next to him, his fingers immediately searching for a pulse while he did a quick visual assessment of the cut above his left eye.

Lee knew well enough to stay out of Jamie's way. If there was anything he could do, the CMO would tell him. Right now he was silently running through every prayer he knew.

Looking up at an anxious Lee Crane, Jamieson said, "I have a pulse. It's weak but it's definitely there. Sharkey," he barked, "help me get him onto his back."

Standing around had never appealed to Francis Sharkey; standing around watching the admiral's administrative assistant have a meltdown while the admiral bled out was even less appealing. Quickly, he went to Jamie's side then hesitated, afraid to touch the unconscious man. "Tell me what to do, doc."

Jamie had one hand on Nelson's shoulder and the other behind his head. "Take his legs and gently shift him that way," he pointed with his chin, "and then we can ease him onto the floor." Slowly the two men moved him but not before Nelson coughed up a mouthful of blood. "Damn it! What's the ETA on that medivac?"

Jacobs, still standing in the doorway, called out, "Three minutes." One of the tactical team came up to the agent and pulled him aside. As soon as the man left, Jacobs leaned back inside. "Lee, a minute please."

Lee didn't want to leave but he knew there was nothing he could do. Two long strides and he was standing next to Jacobs, arms crossed and chewing on a fingernail as he continued to watch Jamie work on the admiral.

"They're gone. Just as we feared, they spotted the helicopter and cleared out before we got here. Depending on how much lead time they have on us, I've got my guys working with eyes in the air to see if we can find them. They'll most likely be traveling at a high rate of speed and at this time of night, we should be able to spot them."

Letting his gaze track just over Jacobs' left shoulder to Kowalski standing just outside the door, awkwardly comforting a still distraught Angie, Lee heard what Jacobs was saying without really comprehending. Rocking back and forth in Kowalski's arms, muttering "I killed him" over and over, Lee knew that the woman they'd known as Angie Moreira was irrevocably lost. It was obvious to everyone except probably the admiral that she adored the man. They'd once joked that she was his 'work wife' and neither had denied it. She knew the man almost as well as he knew himself. Seeing her body shake from waves of grief, Lee's heart ached for her. Even if the admiral lived, Angie would never be the same again. Honestly, how did anyone come back from something like this?

Looking around, Lee realized that Jacobs was no longer in front of him. He'd started to head outside to check on the helicopter when Kowalski caught his attention.

Catching his captain's eye, Kowalski pointed at Miss Angie's arm. He'd grown up in a tough neighborhood around kids who'd used drugs. He saw enough to know the signs and Miss Angie definitely had them. LSD or something like it was his guess and the needle mark on her arm definitely confirmed his suspicion that she'd been injected with something.

Lee immediately understood the gesture and nodded to Kowalski. She'd been drugged. That didn't help the situation but at least it explained it. And he knew first-hand what that was like. He'd once tried to kill the admiral while under the influence of a mind-altering drug. No real harm had come to the man but just the thought of what he'd tried to do had shaken Lee to the core for quite some time. Still, both he and the admiral knew it was a risk that sometimes came with the job. But Angie? She shouldn't have been exposed to this kind of danger. She should have been tucked away safe and sound at the Institute. Shaking his head, his expression grim, he leaned his back against the wall and silently cursed.

Back inside room one, Will Jamieson pressed his hand over the gunshot wound. "Sharkey, look through my bag and find me a piece of plastic and some tape. Something about the size of your hand will work." The lack of a shirt made it much easier for Jamie to see the bubbles of blood seeping from the hole in the upper right quadrant of Nelson's chest. Puzzled, he ran his hand again over his back, expecting but finding no exit wound. "Bullet is still in there too."

"Here you go." Sharkey handed it over and then sat back on his heels, watching as Jamie removed his hand, applied the plastic over the wound, and then motioned for the chief to hold it down while he wiped away some of the blood and applied the tape. "What's that for?"

"He's got a collapsed lung. This keeps air from escaping. I don't know how the bullet missed the subclavian but it did otherwise he'd be dead by now." Jamie paused to check the admiral's breath sounds, satisfied the seal was working for now. Doing a quick assessment of his unconscious patient, his mind cataloging the blood encrusted cuts at the base of his neck and down his chest, the bruising on his wrists, his gaze came to rest on the make-shift tourniquet around Nelson's upper left thigh. He'd been so concerned with getting the open chest wound addressed and there had been so much blood, he'd almost missed the leg wound. Cutting away the fabric and exposing the wound then leaning in for a better look, he shook his head in disgust. "Jesus Christ, what the hell did they do to him? Hand me two packets of gauze and the compression bandage." He could tell by the size and the shape of the wound that this had been done by a knife. A big knife. Luckily, whoever did it had completely missed the femoral artery but judging by the dark red blood, probably nicked the great saphenous vein as well as the nerve. Holding out his hand, Sharkey had the packet of gauze ready before Jamie could even ask. Trying to offer a reassuring smile to the chief, he said a quick, "thanks," before tearing open the package and applying the dressing. "Chief, can you gently elevate his leg?"

Sharkey did as asked. "Like this?"

"Yes, like that. You'll need to hold it like that until we can get him on a stretcher. Can you do that?"

"If it saves his leg or his life, I'll do whatever you need me to do from now until kingdom come."

Doc patted the chief's shoulder for reassurance. Francis Sharkey had only been part of _Seaview's_ crew for a short time but ever since their recent adventure on an island inhabited with prehistoric creatures, one in which Sharkey had broken his leg, he and the admiral had become good friends. And Sharkey had made it his responsibility to look out for the admiral. Hell, Jamie thought, he wouldn't be surprised if Sharkey somehow felt responsible for this.

Hearing the reverberating thump of the medivac helicopter overhead, the walls shaking from the noise, Jamie sat back on his heels and took in a deep breath then slowly, quietly let it out. "Okay, I've done all I can do with what I have. Let's hope it's enough."

**-xxx-**

As the medics secured Nelson to the stretcher and carried him to the waiting helicopter, Jamieson followed behind, stopping when he saw Captain Crane waiting off to the side. Jamie was struck by how helpless the officer looked. He needed something to do. Unfortunately, he wasn't going to like what Jamie had to say.

Resting a hand on the skipper's arm, Jamie said, "I'll ride in the chopper with him. They're taking him to Los Gatos. Jacobs says it's a good hospital. He's going to alert them that we're coming and tell them to keep it under wraps. He doesn't want this getting into the press."

Lee nodded his understanding and took a step towards the chopper, only to be stopped by Jamie.

"Captain, no, you need to go with Angie." As Lee started to protest, Jamie cut him off. "Jacobs has an ambulance on the way to transport her. I don't know what they gave her so I can't give her anything to counter it. She'll just have to ride it out. But in the meantime she needs to be around people she knows. You, Kowalski, Sharkey, she's going to need support from all of you."

"Doc, you don't think she might…" Lee couldn't even say the words.

"I don't know. You know as well as I do how close she is to him. The drug is intensifying her emotions so the grief she's feeling now could become despair later and," he hesitated before continuing. "I don't want to think about what she could do while it's in her system. Once the drug wears off, I'm not sure how she'll react. She may not remember or she might. And if she does, then I don't want her to be alone."

One of the medics leaned out the door and called out to Jamie, "Sir, we're ready to go."

"On my way," Jamie said before turning back to Lee. "See you in Los Gatos."

Lee gave him a pat on the arm. "Take care of him, Will."

His mouth set in a tight line, Doc nodded and then climbed aboard, taking a seat next to his patient. Turning back around, he caught one last glimpse of Lee, standing stoically despite the dust kicking up around him, and smiled bittersweetly. It was the first time the captain had ever called him by his first name.

Lee looked on as the helicopter lifted off, cleared the trees and quickly disappeared into the eastern sky. Walking back to join Jacobs, he glanced around the grounds. At some point during the night a white van had arrived on the scene.

"I'm turning the scene over to the forensic guys. They're going to process it and let me know what they find. I've got an ambulance for the girl and I traded the truck for a sedan so I can take you and your guys to the hospital."

"I'm going to ride with her." Lee's attention was now fixed on Angie, her face turned into Kowalski's shoulder.

Jacobs followed his gaze. "I'm sorry, Lee. If we had gotten here sooner, maybe we could have…"

Lee waved the man off. It was too late for regrets.

"You think she'll be okay?"

Seeing the flashing lights of the approaching ambulance, Lee was grateful they weren't blasting the siren. Slowly turning toward Jacobs, Crane felt deflated. Shaking his head, he said simply, "no, I don't," and walked away.

**-xxx-**

The ambulance arrived at the hospital in Los Gatos almost forty minutes after the helicopter had landed. With the admiral in surgery, Will had been waiting in the bay when they'd brought her in. The last time he'd seen her she'd still been quite upset. Now her gaze was transfixed and unblinking, as if she were in a trance.

Lee followed behind the stretcher, meeting a very grim-faced Will Jamieson once he was inside. "How's the admiral," was the first question out of his mouth.

"They took him straight into surgery." There was more but Jamie wasn't ready to tell Lee just yet. He needed to know how his other patient, the one he could help, was. "How's Angie?"

Lee knew he was purposely being distracted and while he was very worried about the admiral, he knew there wasn't anything he could do but wait. At least he felt a small amount of relief that he was in surgery. Angie was a more immediate concern. "She bottomed out once we were on the way. Maybe the drug is wearing off?"

"I don't know. Could just be an effect of the drug." Running his hand through his thinning hair, Jamie sighed. "It's so hard to say without knowing what she was given."

Overhearing part of the conversation, Jacobs, along with Sharkey and Kowalski, joined the two men. "Dr. Jamieson, I think this might help." He held up a plastic bag containing a syringe. "There was a vial too but the lab is processing it. We found them in a second room that had been used to carry out some of the torture. There were chains hanging from the ceiling, and some kind of motorized pulley system used to raise them."

"I noticed bruises on his wrists," Jamie added.

"Yeah, in their attempt to get information from him I think they made him watch whatever they did to her. And judging by the amount of blood we found and the drag marks, it's where Harry was stabbed." He handed the bag with the syringe over to Jamieson. "That's evidence too but I managed to get it released into my custody. I don't know if it will help but maybe you can check it? I know I'm stating the obvious but wear gloves when you handle it."

The more details that emerged, the more disgusted Lee grew. "Do you think Lydia Parrish was behind this?"

Jamie glanced from one man to the other. "Parrish? You think a woman did all this?"

Jacobs stuck a hand in his pocket. "I do. Has all the earmarks of a very vengeful woman. And she has reason to be vengeful towards Harry."

Kowalski looked disgusted. "Begging your pardon sirs, but I understand her having a vendetta towards the admiral. I was at Weymouth with him; I saw the look on her face when he spoiled her plan. But Miss Angie? She never hurt nobody."

Jacobs smiled. It was obvious by his concern that the young man had a bit of a crush on the woman. "Yeah, well, unfortunately for her, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time." Quickly turning his attention to Jamieson, he asked, "How's Harry? Any word?"

Jamie shook his head. "No, they're supposed to page me when he's out of surgery. I think it'll be a while." He looked at Lee then looked away but it was too late.

"What is it? He made the trip okay, right?"

Jamie frowned. "He crashed just before we landed. It was probably a minute before we got him back. I thought for sure we'd lost him."

"But he was alive when you landed?"

"He was alive."

"Doctor Jamieson?" the question came from a nurse. "We have Miss Moreira settled. She's in exam room four."

"Thank you." Turning back to the anxious men, he said, "I asked if I could examine her. Thought it might be better if it were someone she knew rather than an unfamiliar face. Wait here."

**-xxx-**

She alternated between freezing cold and burning heat, and when she closed her eyes, all she saw was blood. So much blood. His blood. All over the floor. He'd tried to kill her. No, he hadn't touched her. That was just what she'd been told. The blood spread across his chest like a flower, a rose. A beautiful, red rose. Like the roses in the rose garden at the old mission in Santa Barbara. Santa Barbara, that's where she lived. That's where he lived. Admiral Nelson. How could he be alive?

The thoughts came, one after the other, battering her mind like an uzi assault, and then they stopped, leaving in their wake a throbbing headache. Checking her surroundings, she started to panic when she realized she was alone in another room. Lost on her was the realization that this was not the same place; that the room was a pristine, antiseptic white, the bed was comfortable and clean, and she was being fed intravenous fluids to aid with her severe dehydration and antibiotics to stave off any infection. All she understood was that she could not raise her arms. She was someone's prisoner once again.

"How do you feel?"

The voice sounded tinny but familiar. Turning her head a bit too fast, she closed her eyes against the wave of dizziness.

Will Jamieson removed the restraints on her wrists and picked up an emesis basin, setting it on the bed beside her. "Just in case you need this."

The face swam in and out of focus but she recognized it. And for the first time in days, she felt relief. She thought she had asked if she were safe but the words she spoke sounded foreign to her. Judging by his reaction, they weren't very clear to him either.

"Angie, you're in a hospital. You're safe now." Will took a chance and gently rested his hand on her arm.

His voice and the soft touch of his hand soothed her, made her relax. When he rose to leave, she reached out. "No, stay, please?"

"I need to step outside but I'll make sure someone is with you all the time, okay?"

She nodded and let go of his hand.

As Will started to go, something caught his eye. She was still wearing the same clothes she'd had on when she left the conference that fateful morning. The skirt was smudged with dirt and wrinkled and torn in places but the blouse hadn't fare nearly as well. Several buttons were missing, the hem torn and frayed, and around the right shoulder, a splotch of blood. He'd thought at first it had been the admiral's blood but why in just that one place? Something was off. "Angie, do you might if I look at your shoulder?" Other than ordering several blood tests and the IVs, Doc hadn't done a complete examination yet. He'd been too concerned with how she would react with the drug still in her system. He wasn't sure who had ordered the restraints but give how unpredictable the effect of the mysterious drug could be, he suspected it was a merely a hospital precaution.

His face was swimming again, with vertical lines running up and down like an out of tune television. She hoped she was telling him no but she couldn't be sure.

Luckily, Jamie was good at interpreting facial expressions and slight gestures. Leaning in, he gently pulled away the soiled fabric to reveal a crude, half-moon cut that looked like the skin had been peeled back. "Angie, do you know what this is?"

Angie slowly turned her head to the side, straining to see what he saw. As recognition hit her, she began to cry. "No, no more. Please." The violent sobs wracked her body, making her shake violently.

Jamie sat on the bed next to her, comforting her as best he could as she curled against his side. "It's okay," he said softly. "No one is going to hurt you anymore. You're safe now." As he spoke, he gently ran his hand over her back, soothing her as well as checking for any additional wounds. As the sobs began to subside, he reached around her for several tissues and offered them to her. "I'd like to x-ray your shoulder, okay? If there's something still in there then we need to get it out."

She accepted the tissues and pressed them against her nose and eyes. "She did that. She had a scalpel and she cut into my skin. She put something in there because when she was done," she closed her eyes again, shaking her head from side to side, unable to continue.

"She hurt you, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"Her name is Lydia Parrish. She was after the admiral," he didn't get to finish. As soon as Will mentioned the admiral, she became inconsolable.

"Oh, God, no! No, no, no, I killed him! I shot him in cold blood! I saw him fall! He's dead and I killed him!"

"Angie, no, you didn't kill him. He was still alive when we found him. You didn't kill him." Jamie held onto her wrists tightly, keeping her from lashing out, and repeated the words several times until she finally comprehended what he was saying and calmed down.

"He's alive? But there was so much blood."

"He was alive when we found him. We got to him quickly and he was flown to the hospital, this hospital. He's in surgery now and doctors are doing everything they can to save him."

She swallowed and sniffed and accepted more tissues. "She did terrible things to him." More tears welled up. "She tried to make him talk but he wouldn't. He didn't tell her anything and that made it worse."

"Is that why she hurt you? To make him talk?"

Angie nodded. "I think so. I didn't talk either."

Jamie held her a little tighter. "You're a very brave girl, you know that?"

She shook her head adamantly. "I'm not. I shot Admiral Nelson. I'm not brave at all." And she broke down again.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks to everyone for the reviews and thanks to N. for the help!_

* * *

Nine hours after Harriman Nelson was rushed into surgery, Will Jamieson finally got the page. He'd just taken a seat with three very anxious men and as he quickly got to his feet, so did they.

Jacobs' had left a few hours ago to brief his counterpart in San Francisco, promising to inform the team of any new information. Technically, this shouldn't have been his case but since Nelson and the institute were part of his jurisdiction, he'd used that reason to insert himself.

Waiting at the nurses' station, the tall, thin man in light blue scrubs looked very tired but still managed a brief smile. "Dr. Jamieson?" He glanced curiously at Lee, still dressed in black tunic and trousers, while giving Jamie's outstretched hand a quick but firm shake. "I'm Dr. Cameron. I performed the surgery on Mr. Harrison."

From the slight smile on the surgeon's face, Lee suspected he knew his patient's true identity but was working with Jacobs to keep it under wraps. Now he knew why the press hadn't been all over the hospital.

Jamie turned to Crane. "This is Mr. Benjamin. He's a business associate of Mr. Harrison's. Oversees several of his properties."

The surgeon nodded. "I understand. If you'd both come with me, we can talk in my office." He led the two men to a small window office, waving them into chairs while he took a seat in a high-backed black leather chair. "First let me say that yes, I've been briefed by the FBI so I understand the importance of our patient and keeping this out of the press." Hearing a light knock on the door, he said, "come," and thanked the orderly for the small, glass coplin jar he was handed. Waiting until the door was closed and they were once again alone, he continued. "Your field triage probably saved his life. Well, that and getting to him quickly. We had a couple of tense moments and your friend is holding his own but I don't want to give you false hope. He's still very critical. His body has had a great shock. He's stable but he lost a lot of blood. He needs time to rest and let his blood volume replenish before we go back in again." Setting down the jar, he rested his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers. "So, I imagine you want the details. I repaired the damage to the GSV but," he paused at Lee's questioning look.

"GSV?"

"Sorry, it's the great saphenous vein, the major superficial vein of the medial leg and thigh and runs from the top of the foot to the upper thigh. I repaired the damage to the vein but he's going to need more surgery once his body has had time to recover a little."

"What about the great saphenous nerve?"

"There's definitely some damage as well as some pretty significant damage to the muscle and surrounding tissue. I'm going to reach out to my colleague, Dr. Nathan Berex. He's an orthopedic trauma surgeon so this is more his area of expertise, not mine."

Jamie leaned back in the chair. One of his biggest fears was that the admiral might have nerve damage in his leg that would prevent him from ever returning to _Seaview_. "How bad is the damage to the nerve?"

"Nerve damage?" Lee glanced between the two doctors, feeling very troubled by this news. "What does that mean? Will it affect his ability to walk?"

Jamie looked to Dr. Cameron and getting an approving nod, explained, "It's a sensory nerve, not a motor nerve so he can still walk."

"Yes," Dr. Cameron confirmed. "The nerve did have some damage but with time it should heal."

"But in the meantime if he were to get against something hot, he might not know it's burning him?"

"That's correct," Cameron answered. "I don't think it will be as bad as that, given the location of the wound however, as the feeling returns it may tingle, like the feeling of pins and needles. It can be uncomfortable but it's part of the normal healing process and a sign of recovery."

"How long does it generally take to heal?"

"I know of one instance where it was as long as eighteen months."

Lee let out a deep breath. It wasn't the worst news but he still didn't like it. He already had visions of the admiral spilling some kind of chemical in the lab and not realizing he had been burned until it was too late.

Judging by the concerned expression on the captain's face, Jamie could pretty much guess where his thoughts were. "Until it heals it just means that whenever he's in the lab, he'll have to have someone around to keep an eye on him."

Lee rolled his eyes. "Oh, he'll just love that." He could just hear the admiral complaining about not needing a babysitter. But quite honestly, it was a problem he hoped very much to have.

Huffing his agreement, Jamie returned his attention to Dr. Cameron. "And the bullet wound?"

Cameron pursed his lips and sat forward, his hand going to the glass jar. "As you may already know, the initial impact was here," The doctor pointed just below his collarbone. "I removed the bullet, repaired the pneumothorax and inserted a thoracostomy tube. A chest tube," he clarified for Lee. "We'll keep that in for a couple of days and then re-evaluate. He's currently on a ventilator to help him breathe and will remain on the vent until his breathing gets stronger. However, I don't want to leave him on that longer than necessary. I am concerned about pneumonia and the longer he's on the vent, well, I don't have to tell you, Dr. Jamieson, about the risks." Holding up the jar, he said, "This is the interesting part and I'm not sure what to make of it. Given the trajectory of the bullet it should have torn through the brachial plexus and the subclavian artery. But whatever this is, it impeded its path. It was destroyed in the process, sending pieces of metal throughout the shoulder." He handed the jar to Lee so he could examine it. "I'd like to say I got most of the pieces but I can't be completely certain until I see some films. Whatever it was, my guess is that it was the size of a nickel or maybe a quarter."

Examining what was left of the device, Lee could make out what looked to be a tiny wire connected to a bit of metal. Whatever it was, it was very intricate. "This almost looks like some sort of transmitter." If Lydia Parrish hadn't been involved, the thought might not have occurred to Lee but he knew she had the skills to design something so complex.

Remembering the deep cut he'd seen on Angie's shoulder, Jamie easily connected the dots. Nodding towards the jar, he said, "I'm willing to bet Angie has the same thing inserted in her shoulder."

At this little revelation, Lee twisted around in his chair. "You never mentioned this."

"I sent her for x-rays to be sure."

"We need to get it out of her as soon as possible!" Lee caught himself before saying any more however, if Parrish did have something to do with this, he feared she might be able to use the device as a way to track down Angie or the admiral.

Sensing the urgency of the situation, Cameron started to reach for the phone. "I can have her prepped and ready for surgery as soon as you give the word. Dr. Jamieson, would you like to do the honors?"

"Yes but I'll do it with a local. I don't want her under anesthesia until I know for sure the drug is out of her system. And if it shows up on the x-ray, then I should be able to keep it as minimally invasive as possible."

"Okay, just let me know when you're ready and I'll clear things here." Leaning forward, Dr. Cameron rested his elbows on the desk. "With regards to Mr. uh, Harrison, of course it's too soon to know how severe the aftereffects will be. The medial cord of brachial plexus was affected so he will have some residual numbness and tingling in his right arm and his hand but with time they should heal. I know it's hard to believe but that little device most likely saved him from some very serious damage and quite possibly, death."

At the word, _death_, Lee looked up. "How?"

"The device kept the bullet from severing the subclavian. If that had happened, I don't care how soon you got to him, he would have bled out. And I don't want to downplay the damage the bullet did. Bullets like to bounce around in chest cavities, especially when they hit something that impedes their path. Both the clavicle and the second rib were broken, his lung collapsed, and he had what amounts to tiny shards of metal buried within the muscle and tissue. He's going to be in a lot of pain when he wakes up so we'd like to keep him on morphine as long as possible. And with the blood loss, as well as immobilization, the concern will be deep vein thrombosis and the potential for blood clots in the lung so we'll need to monitor him very closely."

Jamie shared a concerned look with Lee then said, "Just a warning, he's not going to like being on the vent."

Taking in and letting out a deep breath, the doctor got to his feet. "I'll let the nurses know he'll probably fight it. Dr. Jamieson, I'll arrange for an OR and we can get her prepped when you say the word."

Jamie and Lee followed the surgeon's lead and also stood up, Will being the first to speak. "Thank you. I'd like to check on her once more. She was pretty lucid when I left her but after the ordeal she's been through, I want to make sure I explain everything first."

Next it was Lee. "Dr. Cameron, I'd like to have a couple of my men stationed around Miss Moreira and Mr. Harrison."

"I can assure you that our security here is top-notch but I also understand the importance of our patient. Ray Dixon is the security supervisor on duty. I'll alert him that you'll have your men here as well. Now, I need to check on my patient."

"Can we see him?" Lee knew the admiral would be out of it but he still needed to know he really was alive.

Dr. Cameron hesitated for a moment but seeing the anxious look on Lee's face, he acquiesced. "Once he's settled in ICU, you can see him."

**-xxx-**

Angie had been moved into a new, more spacious room with a window and was sitting up in bed when Lee knocked on the door. Doc had told him that while the half hour surgery was very straightforward, she would be in some pain so they should keep their visit short and of course Lee had agreed.

"Hi, ready for visitors?" He asked, poking his head inside when she'd told him to come in. "I brought along your fan club." The door opened wider and Lee, followed by Chief Sharkey and Kowalski, entered the room.

They were all dressed in street clothes and while she was used to seeing Lee and sometimes Sharkey in something other than a khaki uniform, she'd never seen Kowalski so casually dressed. She had to admit the young seaman looked quite different.

Kowalski stepped forward first, sheepishly leaning in and giving her an awkward hug, careful not to disturb the dressing on her shoulder or the IV lines. "How are you feeling, Miss Angie?"

"I'm okay now, thank you." Admittedly, she didn't feel okay. Her right arm tingled, her shoulder hurt, and she was anxious for an update on the admiral but seeing their familiar, smiling faces, she couldn't disappoint them.

Sharkey was next, also giving her a slightly awkward hug. "You just worry about getting better and if you need anything, anything at all, you just let me know. I'll be right outside the door."

"Thank you, Chief. I'll be sure to let you know." Angie tried to mask her alarm at the chief's innocent statement. If Sharkey was going to be outside her door, that meant Lee was worried about something. No one had given her much information so she wasn't going to let Lee leave without answering a few questions.

"Okay, how about we let her get some rest now." Lee ushered the two men out the door but hung back and pulled up a chair. He didn't need her to ask to know she needed some answers. Doc could yell at him later.

"How is he, Lee?"

Lee put on his best smile. He hadn't been allowed in the ICU – he'd had to look in from a window. For as long as he'd served as _Seaview's_ captain, Lee had seen Harriman Nelson come through so many close calls that he had started to think the man was indestructible. To see him so pale and hooked up to so many machines, each one working to keep him alive, left Lee feeling a little rattled. But for Angie's sake, he tried to keep his own emotions in check. "He's out of surgery and in the ICU. I just came from seeing him and Doc is with him now, that's why he hasn't been in to see you yet. But he told me to tell you he got the device. Lydia Parrish no longer has any control over you."

"Lydia Parrish?" Angie vaguely recalled hearing the name in an earlier conversation.

"Yes. She and the admiral have crossed paths before."

Angie's recollection was still fuzzy but the more time that passed, the more she started to recall. "She alluded to that. I thought perhaps she'd been a student once."

Lee shook his head. "They worked on a project together and then a couple of years later, she conspired with a traitor to try to destroy that project. The admiral was responsible for sending her to prison."

"How can he be alive, Lee? He was right in front of me. I shot him in the chest."

Lee covered her hand with his and gave it a squeeze. "Angie, he's not dead. You didn't kill him."

"I didn't mean to shoot him. I just, I don't know. It felt like I was standing outside my body, watching this other woman point the gun and pull the trigger. I heard her voice telling me to shoot and then when the gun went off, it hit me. I did it. It wasn't some other woman, it was me. I pulled the trigger." Burying her face in her hands, she started to tremble. "I shot him! Oh, God, what did I do?"

Lee took a seat on the side of her bed and let her fall into his arms, her sobs muffled by his shirt. "It wasn't your fault. You had no idea what you were doing. You were drugged."

She pulled away and looked at him, confused. "Drugged? I thought maybe it was that device."

Lee wondered how much she would remember. Obviously, she knew she wasn't herself but it was becoming more apparent that she didn't know why. "We aren't sure what you were given, some kind of hallucinogen most likely. You mentioned the device. Do you remember how it was used?"

Angie stared into space then closed her eyes tightly. "I remember. I'll never forget. She used it to torture me…the admiral. It only lasted a few seconds but it felt like electrical bursts all through my body." She opened her eyes and looked at Lee intently. "It had to be much more horrible for the admiral though because," she stopped, not wanting to say more.

"Because why?"

She shook her head. She knew Lee admired the admiral. She didn't want to tell him about the screams she'd heard or about what she'd seen. "I can't say."

Nodding, Lee wasn't going to make her tell him. "Angie, she did this to you so you would kill him. Believe me, I know what that's like."

"You do?"

Lee hadn't told anyone outside the _Seaview_ about what had happened on the island and was hesitant to talk now but Angie needed to know she wasn't alone. She had a friend in him, one who understood what she was going through. "It was a couple of years ago. We came across this uncharted island and the admiral and I went ashore to investigate. We didn't realize until it was too late that the water and food had been drugged. I was affected, the admiral was not. I tried to kill him, tried to shoot him, and then when that failed, I tried to bash his head in. I almost succeeded too. Thankfully, I guess, I knocked him into a pit of quicksand so it softened the blows. Still, he ended up with a mild concussion and a couple of nasty bruises. The drug wore off after a few hours but when I was under its influence, all I could think of was how badly I wanted to kill him. It consumed me." Taking her hand in his, he spoke as earnestly as he could. "What happened back there, happened. You can't eradicate the memory because it won't go away. You have to face it, head on. If you don't, it'll follow you for the rest of your life, eating away at you until you can't take it anymore. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Slowly, she nodded, wiping an errant tear from her cheek. "Yes."

Ducking his head a little so he could see her face, he caught her gaze. "Hey, if you think he'll hold you in anyway responsible for what happened, then you don't know him at all. That's not who he is."

"I'm not worried about how he'll react. It's me. I won't be able to look at him without knowing what I did."

**-xxx-**

He was floating down a river on his back, looking up into a cloudless blue sky. Somewhere off in the distance, someone was shouting. He didn't mind though. He was content to keep floating. The voice became louder and louder, more insistent breaking the serenity and pushing him upward, towards a bright, white light. He struggled to stay where he was, fighting the pull, until the light came rushing forward, sucking him into its void.

Opening his eyes, Harriman Nelson looked up at the unfamiliar face, felt something obstructing his throat, and panicked.

"Dr. Jamieson, he's waking up and seems to be in some distress."

Waiting in front of a large window outside ICU, Jamie had looked on anxiously as the admiral started to come out of the anesthesia, fighting against the ventilator, and causing alarm bells to sound on the monitoring equipment. As the respiratory therapist checked in, Jamie rushed into the ICU and waved him off. "He doesn't like the tube. Let me see if I can calm him down." Backing off, the RRT hovered off to the side, ready to jump in if necessary.

Jamie went to the left side of the bed, where there was less equipment and only one tube in the way. Gently placing his hand on the admiral's shoulder and leaning in so Nelson could see him, Jamie called his name several times until he could feel the tension leaving the admiral's body, could hear his breathing fall into a steady rhythm. Seeing the glint of recognition in Nelson's eyes, Jamie smiled. "Welcome back. You gave us a bit of a scare. Look, I know you don't like the tube but it has to stay until you're strong enough to breathe on your own, okay?"

Nelson glared at him, telling Jamie it was not okay.

Jamie could tell by how clouded his normally clear blue eyes looked that he was in a great deal of pain and gently patted the man's arm. "Hang tight, my friend. We're going to get you the high octane meds to help with the pain."

Nelson blinked once, telling Jamie that's what he wanted. Long ago they'd established blink once for yes and twice for no as a way to communicate in situations like this. That the admiral remembered their code was a good sign that his faculties were intact. Jamie started to move away but saw the slight motion of Nelson's left hand. It didn't take a stretch to guess what he wanted.

"Angie?"

Nelson blinked once.

"She's okay. She's in a room on the fourth floor and Sharkey is outside her door." Doc wasn't going to give him all the details – just the pertinent ones that would allow him to rest easy. "Now, I'm going to update Lee and then check on Angie. Enjoy the meds." He started to leave then remembered something. "Oh, and don't hassle the nurses too much." He was gratified to see two blinks.

**-xxx-**

"Knock, knock," Jamie slowly opened the door and came into the room, surprised to see Lee sitting on the bed. "Um, everything okay in here?" The scowl he might have made at finding Lee still in her room, disturbing her when she should be resting, faded when he realized she had been crying again.

Lee slid off the bed but kept his hold on her hand. "Everything will be okay, right?" He looked at Angie, who gave his hand a squeeze but didn't respond.

"Well, here's some good news," Jamie said, leaning on the end railing and smiling. "He's awake and responsive to my voice. And would you believe, even on a ventilator he asked about you." Jamie hoped that bit of news might also cheer her up a bit. And it did.

For the first time since they'd found her, a real smile, a relieved smile, lit up her face. "Can I see him?" As soon as she asked the question, the smile faded as apprehension and panic gripped her. She wasn't sure she could see him. Not yet anyway.

Jamie looked at Lee and then to Angie. "I think that would be a very good idea for you and for him. However, I'd like to wait a day or two, until he's a little stronger." That wasn't really the reason he wanted to wait. Angie's emotional state was still very precarious. Seeing him on so many monitors and on the ventilator might be too much for her. Not to mention what kind of a traumatic reminder it would be to see the massive swath of bandage covering the upper right side of his chest. "Now, Mr. Benjamin, how about you wait outside while I check my prettiest patient."

Winking at Angie, he gave Jamie his most indignant look and said, "Hey, I thought I was your prettiest patient!" Her laugh was a very welcome sound. Leaning in he gave her a quick peck on the cheek and whispered, "Think about what I said, okay?"

"I will. Thank you." Now she understood why the admiral placed so much trust in Lee Crane. He really was a good man and a wonderful friend.

**-xxx-**

Jamie found Captain Crane standing in the corridor, talking with Chief Sharkey when he finally emerged from the room. Stopping at the nurse's station, he gave orders for a sedative for Angie and then waited for Crane.

"Okay, call me if you see anything out of the ordinary."

"Will do, uh, Mr. Benjamin." Saying the name elicited a small smile from Sharkey.

Rubbing his left eye tiredly, Lee walked over to a waiting Jamie. "Were you able to determine what was in the syringe?"

Jamie shook his head no. "My guess is lysergic acid diethylamide."

"LSD? She'll be all right, won't she?"

"From the aftereffects of the drug, she should be. However, when we get her back to Santa Barbara, I'd like her to see a psychiatrist. I think it might help her work through some of her guilt." Resting his hand on Lee's shoulder, Jamie tilted his head, eyes scrutinizing the captain's face. "How are you holding up?"

Lee let his shoulders fall, the weight of the last several days bearing down. He'd had to be strong for Angie, suppressing his own concern for the admiral, and now it was all catching up with him. "I'm okay. Just tired. I think I could sleep for a week."

"Well, he's stable and Angie seems to be doing much better. Why don't you head over to the hotel and get some rest. I'll call you if anything changes."

"I'm not so sure she is doing that much better. I think she's still barely holding it together."

Jamieson rubbed the back of his neck in an attempt to ward off his own fatigue. "Why don't we sit?" Both men headed over to a small waiting area, relieved to find they were alone. Doc took a seat across from Lee. "If it were a physical problem, I would know what to do to repair it. But this? I don't know what to do."

"The psychiatrist you mentioned when she's back in Santa Barbara, that sounds like a good place to start."

Jamie nodded. "Unfortunately, we don't have one at the institute. She'll have to seek outside treatment."

Lee leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, stretching both legs out in front of him. "With everything we've faced, you'd think we'd have a whole team of psychiatrists standing by. I think we need to suggest that to the…to Mr. Harrison." At the mention of the alias, he quirked a smile. One day, he hoped he and the admiral could have a good laugh about that.

Jamie settled into a very comfortable chair and mirrored Lee's position. "You know, I think you have a point. I'll submit a request for at least two when we get back."

A thought occurred to Lee, causing him to open his eyes and raise his head. "Doc, what about hypnotherapy? To help her forget, I mean."

Jamie pondered the question. "I hadn't thought of it but I hear they've used it to help with post-traumatic stress. Of course she would have to agree to it but it might be worth looking into."

"Might be good for both of them." Lee closed his eyes and relaxed once again.

Jamie huffed a laugh. "Yes, and you can be the one to try to get him to agree." A few minutes later, both men were snoring lightly.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you for sticking with the story and especially for your reviews. I very much appreciate it!_

* * *

"I've seen a cut like that before." Tapping his chin with a photograph of Angie's wound that Doc had taken pre-surgery, Jacobs was thinking. "I got it," he said, snapping his fingers. "Bill Hayes. The medical examiner said he had a scar in that same place. Said it looked like something had been inserted and then removed at or near the brachial plexus. And he said the removal was done post mortem."

"I guess that explains why he turned. They tortured him with it and got him to be their pawn."

"You said he had a family? Maybe they found that out and threatened to harm them as well. Then grief at what he'd done gets to be too much and," Jacobs made a gun gesture with his thumb and forefinger and pointed it at his head. "One more thing. While all the evidence still said suicide, the forensic guys said the body was moved so that's how he ended up in the dumpster. They got him to betray Admiral Nelson, probably gave him the gun he used to kill himself, and then tossed him away like garbage."

By now Lee had gotten used to Jacobs' bluntness but he still didn't like it. Bill Hayes had been a good man. If they'd done to him the same thing they'd done to Angie and the admiral, then Lee found it difficult to completely blame him. And he knew the admiral would feel the same way. "Any sign of Parrish?"

"No, she and her band of goons are in the wind. Lee, I hate to bring this up but at some point, I'm going to have to talk to Angie. I need to get her statement, find out what she remembers."

Shaking his head before Jacobs even finished the sentence, Lee said, "No, she's too fragile right now."

"I understand that. It's why I want to do it instead of having my counterpart do it. He's not nearly as," Jacobs paused and smiled, "sensitive as I am. I'm hoping she'll remember my handsome face and feel a little more comfortable. And if you think it will help, you can be there with her." He held up a hand, halting any objection Lee might have. "It has to be done and I'd rather do it now, so she can put it behind her and move on."

Lee didn't like it but he understood. This was still an investigation and if anyone had to talk to her, he'd rather it be Jacobs. Sure the man could be a bit crass but Lee had also seen a much softer side to the agent. He just hoped that was the side he brought to the table when talking to Angie. "Okay, but I do want to be there."

Jacobs nodded in agreement. "I'll set it up. I'm only in town for the day so you think she could do it this afternoon?"

"Most likely. I'll need to clear it with Dr. Jamieson first though."

Jacobs looked at the floor and shifted his feet. "How's Harry?" he asked, raising bushy eyebrows to look at Lee.

"He woke up yesterday and he's stable so that's good news but they still have him on a ventilator. When they were operating on him, they found a device." Lee glanced around the busy hospital lobby. "There's a coffee shop across the street. How about we head over there and I'll fill you in on everything I know."

"If you're buying, that's a deal." Jacobs followed Lee out the doors and squinted into the bright sunlight. "I've exhausted my per diem for the month."

**-xxx-**

After pleading his case, Dr. Jamieson had finally acquiesced to Jacobs' talking to Angie. But Jamie wanted certain rules to be observed. If the woman grew too agitated, if she broke down, or if she couldn't remember details, then Jamie wanted him to stop and let her rest. Jacobs agreed and after four hours and several breaks, he finally had her statement along with every horrific detail she could remember.

"I need a drink," he said, leaning against the wall outside her room. "What he had to endure and what she had to watch," he shook his head in disgusted disbelief. "I have to give her credit for holding it together as well as she did. I underestimated her," he admitted, admiration in his voice. "She is one tough woman."

"She wouldn't be his assistant if she weren't. You know, she's been at the institute since day one and she never quit."

Jacobs let out a low whistle. "Maybe I should see if she'd come to work for me. I'm a pussycat compared to Harry."

Lee thought of another description but held his tongue. He did have to give Jacobs a lot of credit. True to his word he'd been patient with her, never pushing her, and taking breaks to allow her to recompose herself. Lee knew he was being hard on the man but as much as he wanted to like him, there was still something about the agent that rubbed him the wrong way. Secretly, he wondered if the man irritated the admiral as well.

Both men turned as Dr. Jamieson emerged from Angie's room. "I gave her a sedative so she should be asleep soon."

"By the way," Jacobs looked first at Jamie, then at Lee, "how long has she had a thing for, uh, Mr. Harrison?"

Lee and Doc exchanged puzzled looks. "What?" they asked almost simultaneously.

"Oh, come on! Don't tell me I'm the only one who picked up on that. The girl's in love with him. It's pretty obvious and you two never noticed before?"

"Sure, she's always been protective of him but in love with him?"

"Why not? It's not the first time a secretary was in love with her boss. Happens all the time. And don't look at me like it's a bad thing."

Lee weighed his words. It really wasn't such a bad thing – just surprising. Perhaps that was the reason why she'd turned down Chip on more than one occasion.

Rubbing his hand up the back of his head, Jacobs needed to get going but there was one more question he had to ask. "So, I don't suppose anyone has bothered to call Edith?" Seeing the 'oh, shit' expressions on the two officer's faces, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Seriously? Her only living relative very nearly died and no one has bothered to call her?" Turning abruptly around, he stormed off, still rubbing the back of his head, as he uttered a very audible "sheesh!"

Doc looked at Lee. Lee looked at Doc. And they both looked at the closed door to Angie's room. Angie was the one to handle a crisis. She was the one who always seemed to know where Edith was, even when her own brother had no idea. Angie really was the glue that held the institute together. She was the one who kept the institute running on a daily basis. Without her, they were all just running in circles.

Taking a seat in one of the waiting room chairs, Doc shrugged. "He's right. We should have called Edith."

Lee followed suit, leaning his head against the cushion. For a hospital the chairs really were comfortable. "I'll call Chip, have him get with Lola and see if they can locate her."

"We need to put a bell on her." Doc said in complete seriousness but glancing over at Lee and seeing the smile that started to crack his grim exterior, he started to laugh.

Quickly changing direction, Lee voiced the question that had been niggling at him since their talk with Jacobs. "Did you see it, Doc?"

"See what?"

"What Jacobs said about Angie. Did you ever notice?"

"The ways of women often confound me. But I guess I could see it. I know she cares about him a great deal."

"You don't think he feels that way about her, do you?"

Jamie turned his head to look at Lee, weighing the question before responding. "I think he cares about her an awful lot but if it were anything more than that, I don't think he would ever act on it. As much as he might play fast and loose with the rules sometimes that's breaking protocol. And he would never do that."

**-xxx-**

It had been seven days since they arrived in Los Gatos and while the admiral was no worse, he hadn't shown much improvement either. Despite being intubated for a second surgery on his leg, they'd decided his lung had improved enough to take him off the ventilator and thankfully so far he'd shown no signs of pneumonia. But as Jamie checked the thermometer once again, he didn't like what seemed to be developing: infection. Jamie knew this was to be expected. The facility was filthy and he was positive that sterilization of the instruments used hadn't been a consideration. But with all the antibiotics they were pumping into him, Jamie was still optimistic that the admiral would be able to fend it off. After all, his temperature was a little high but not worth panicking about just yet. He'd start him on a new antibiotic and perhaps that would shut it down. At least that's what he hoped.

Jacobs still hadn't managed to track down the whereabouts of Lydia Parrish, all traces of the woman leading to dead ends. With her still out there and now knowing the extent of her hatred for Nelson, Lee wanted to get the admiral and Angie back to Santa Barbara where he knew they'd both be safe. But until Jamie cleared the admiral for the transfer, they were all staying in Los Gatos, even Angie.

Surprisingly, that had been her wish. Jamie felt sure that she'd want to head back, especially since she still refused to see the admiral despite her constant inquiries about him. But Jamie could deal with that. Harry was a bit more problematic. He asked about her every time he was awake and Jamie always made excuses. Harry wouldn't understand her hesitance but Jamie did. And that put him in a very difficult position. On one hand he felt for the admiral, wanting desperately to see her, and yet, Jamie also understood that she needed time to heal as well. Only in her case, it wasn't a physical wound that needed to heal and that's why Jamie found it so difficult. He could deal with physical wounds. It was the mental wounds that he couldn't fix.

As Jamie checked the healing progress of the leg wound, he realized he was being watched. Glancing over, he saw the admiral was awake. "Good afternoon."

He didn't respond, instead motioning towards the empty cup on a nearby table.

Jamie filled it with cold water and brought it over to him. Bringing the straw to his lips, he smiled as the admiral drank most of it then settled back against the pillows. "Better?"

"Throat hurts," he managed to say, his voice mostly cracking. Craning his neck to look around the room, he asked, "Angie?"

Jamie rested his hand on his left shoulder, trying to get him to lay back. "Remember me telling you that she was discharged and Lee had checked her into a room at the hotel across the street?" It was the truth. She had been discharged two days ago and had been under the nearly constant watchful eye of either Sharkey or Kowalski.

Harry closed his eyes and nodded.

"Well, she's there now, resting." That wasn't exactly the truth. She truly had been in her room but for the last hour she'd been meeting with the resident psychiatrist. Doc had offered to make the arrangements and she had agreed. Today was her second appointment. "How's the pain?"

At the mention of the word pain, he frowned.

"Not so good, huh?"

Harry shook his head. "She's avoiding me, isn't she?"

With his usually deep timbre cracking after every other word, Doc had to strain to hear the question. "She's been through quite an ordeal. Just like you, she needs to heal. She's working through her issues and hopefully, she'll come to see you soon."

"Tell her I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this," he didn't finish the sentence, instead closing his eyes tightly and emphatically shaking his head back and forth.

Giving his shoulder a gentle pat, his heart breaking for the man, he motioned for the nurse. He wasn't going to improve if he was distressed. He needed to rest. The nurse handed Jamie a syringe, which he inserted into the IV catheter. "Rest easy, my friend. Rest easy."

**-xxx-**

"She really needs to see him." Will Jamieson and Lee Crane were sitting in the hospital cafeteria. Lee had been by to see the admiral only to find him asleep, and Jamie had offered to buy him lunch.

"What do you want me to do? Throw her over my shoulder and carry her in there?"

"No, no, you can't do that but honestly, I wish you could. It might be the only way to get her to see him." Jamie punctuated his words with a heavy sigh.

Lee looked down at his half eaten sandwich and pushed the plate away. "How is he, Doc? I mean, honestly? He doesn't look any better and every time I stop in to see him, he's asleep."

Jamie frowned. He knew how close Lee was to the admiral and he understood the captain's frustration. Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot he could do about it. "He's still in quite a lot of pain so I've been keeping him pretty heavily medicated, which is why he's always asleep. When he's awake, he asks about Angie and that gets him agitated. If this continues, it's going to impede his recovery."

"Speaking of his recovery, any idea how much longer he'll be here?"

Jamie picked at his salad with his fork. "I wish I could give you a solid answer. I'm getting very tired of hospital food." He pushed his plate away as well.

"The hotel has pretty decent food. Maybe you should check it out." Lee leaned forward. "You know, you ride us pretty hard about our health, getting enough rest, and eating right but someone needs to get after you about taking care of yourself. When was the last time you actually slept in a bed?" Lee knew perfectly well that Jamie had been camping out at the hospital so he could be close by should the admiral need him.

"I slept in a bed this morning. I crashed in the doctor's lounge for a couple of hours."

"That not good enough. You need to get some real rest. Look, I've sent Kowalski on a little mission so head over to the hotel, room 216, and send Sharkey over here. He'll be happy to sit with the admiral while you sack out. I'll keep an eye on Angie." Lee leveled his sternest look at the CMO. "That's an order, mister."

Reluctantly, Jamie agreed. "Yes, sir. By the way, what mission did you send Kowalski on?"

"Don't let this get back to the crew because he'll never live it down. I asked him to go and buy some things for Angie. She's wearing clothes and shoes donated by one of the nurses and she's got none of those, you know, things," Lee waved his hand around his head, "that women need for their hair."

Jamie laughed. "I think you mean shampoo and conditioner. Us men use those too, you realize."

"Yes, but they don't smell as nice." Lee shrugged. "I just thought she needed some nice things. Maybe it'll make her feel better."

Although he recognized that Lee's heart was in the right place, Jamie knew that buying her clothes and frilly shampoo wasn't going to fix what was wrong. The problem that Lee had, that they all had, was they wanted to make her better, to take away the pain and the memories, but they had no idea how. "So you sent Kowalski out with a list? Why didn't you just see if she wanted to go?"

"I wanted to surprise her. I looked at the sizes on the clothes she was wearing and told him to buy exactly that."

"You realize Kowalski is color-blind, right?"

Lee leaned back in the chair and groaned. "Oh, no, I forgot all about that."

"Well, just make sure you keep the receipts." Jamie stood up, stretching out his back and cracking his neck. "I think I'll take you up on your offer. See you in," he checked his watch, "four hours."

"I don't want to see you for at least six hours. Got it?"

"Yes, sir. I'll leave my contact information with the nurses in case anything arises." Picking up his plate, he set it on the conveyor belt and disappeared into the corridor.

Lee drained the last of his coffee and followed suit, then headed for the hotel. He needed to call Chip and check on their progress in locating Edith as well as address any issues with the Institute. The last thing he wanted was for the admiral to return to a mess and without Angie there, he was pretty sure it was inevitable. Then he needed to talk to Angie. Maybe if he told her the admiral was asking about her, she'd change her mind.

**-xxx-**

Alone in her room Angie sat in a chair by the window, hugging her knees tightly. The nightmares were relentless, recreating the events over and over with her mind filling in the blanks. And always they ended the same: with the admiral's voice, pleading, begging and then a loud bang that woke her from her sleep and left her nerves frayed. More than once she had been nearly naked in her dream and he had been there, watching her. Reluctantly, she had mentioned this to the psychiatrist and he had told her there were many reasons but the one that struck a chord with her was the feeling of shamefulness – that she was hiding something and was afraid others could see right through her. That _he_ could see right through her. It rattled her how easily Lydia Parrish had exposed her feelings for the admiral and how shameful she felt for having those feelings, especially when she'd been unable to look away.

It had started as a crush and evolved into what? Unrequited love? Lust-filled fantasies? She'd tried to date other men but always she found herself comparing them to him. Without even knowing, he'd spoiled every other man for her. Lydia Parrish had taunted her, told her that a defeated Harry Nelson wasn't a strong man. But Angie disagreed. Running her fingers over the healing wound, the dull throb and pink scar constant reminders of her ordeal, she easily remembered the pain she'd felt from that device but what she'd endured had only been a fraction of what he'd had to endure. He was a very strong man.

Maybe she did put him on a pedestal. Maybe she'd built him up to be so much more than he really was. She realized now that he wasn't perfect. He was just a man who felt pain, who had weaknesses and flaws; he was a man who had begged and pleaded for her life. Lydia Parrish had hoped that exposing all of this would make Angie change the way she felt about him. But she was wrong. It only made the feelings stronger. And that's why facing the reality of what she'd done, what she'd been forced to do, hurt so much. How could she face the man she loved knowing that she had very nearly killed him? She wished she could put the last ten days behind her; she wished she could be back in Santa Barbara, at her desk at the institute, waiting for Admiral Nelson to come through the door, briefcase and cover in hand. Everything was so simple, so comfortable, and so familiar. Now, nothing would ever be the same.

The knock at her door thankfully saved her from her darkening thoughts. Reluctantly getting up from the chair, she went to the door, checking the peep hole before unlatching the lock at the sight of the familiar face. She kept telling herself that she was safe now, that the woman or her men wouldn't come after her at the hotel but she was still afraid.

"Hey, can I come in?"

She opened the door wider, allowing him to come inside, and then padded across the room once again to resume her place in the chair. "Have you seen him? How is he?"

Lee moved the desk chair closer to her and took a seat. "I've seen him but I haven't been able to talk to him. Every time I stop by to see him, he's been asleep. You know, I haven't talked to him since he was in San Francisco. Feels a little strange."

Angie knew how close Lee and the admiral were. Like brothers, the admiral had once said. She hadn't given a thought to how Lee must be feeling until now. "I'm sorry."

He looked at her curiously. "Why?"

"Because I know what good friends you are." She wanted to add that she was also sorry because he was fighting for his life because of her but she kept those words to herself.

Lee was quiet, looking down at his hands, absently twisting the ring on his finger. He hadn't been able to fully process everything that had happened yet and maybe that was a good thing. Worrying about Angie had helped to suppress some of his anxiety about the admiral. "Doc says whenever he's awake he asks about you. Angie, if you're worried about what he will think, you have to know that he's not angry; he doesn't hold you responsible in any way. He just wants to see for himself that you're okay."

"How do you know? You said you haven't talked to him. He may have forgiven you but you didn't point a gun at him, you didn't stand in front of him and pull the trigger, even after he'd begged and pleaded for your life. I betrayed him, Lee. I hurt the one person I…"

Lee tilted his head and pressed. "You what, Angie?"

Dropping her hands to her lap, she looked down. "Nothing."

He let it go, sitting in silence and letting her speak when she was ready.

In a quiet voice, she continued. "I'm not you. I can't face it head on and move past it. I have nightmares. I close my eyes and I hear him, I hear his screams, I see what she did to him. She humiliated him, Lee." She stood up, crossing her arms protectively across her chest, and began to pace. "That woman tortured him and she made me watch. I can't just put that behind me and move on. I'm not you." Settling back into the chair, she sat forward, hands on her knees. "How does he come back from this, Lee? What she did to him." She shook her head, unable to continue.

"I can't tell you how but he will. He's tough and stubborn and he won't accept failure. Don't forget, this is the same man who spent four days in a life raft on the open sea with a bullet in his leg." Lee shook his head, remembering how he'd stuck to the rendezvous despite not knowing if Nelson was dead or alive after the ship he'd been on was blown apart. He knew that if there was any chance the admiral was alive, he'd be at the coordinates. And he was. "When we found him, he was unconscious, fevered, sunburnt, and severely dehydrated but he made it. I never gave up hope because the one lesson I learned during my first year on _Seaview_ was don't ever underestimate him."

"The one lesson I learned was don't ever piss him off." Angie looked up, eyes wide, realizing she'd said her thought out loud.

Lee was taken aback. He'd never heard her curse much less use any sort of impropriety but seeing the shock on her face made him laugh.

Hearing Lee's hearty laughter, Angie couldn't contain her fit of giggles either. It felt good to laugh but unfortunately, it was only a fleeting moment before reality set in once more. "Oh, dear God, how could I have forgotten?"

The smile on Lee's face instantly disappeared, replaced by lines of worry. "What?"

"Has anyone contacted Edith?"

Relaxing just a little, he said, "I have Chip on it but so far, he can't seem to track her down."

"That's probably because he's looking for Edith Nelson. Tell him to look for Edie Merriweather."

"Merriweather?"

She took a pen and wrote it on a piece of paper. "It's her mother's maiden name. After the admiral got wind that Edith was potentially a target for kidnappers, he didn't want her to travel any more. She protested and well, you've heard one side of the Nelson temper? Try two sides." Angie could smile about it now but she'd been at her desk when Edith stormed in and confronted her brother and honestly, Angie had been afraid for the admiral then. "They compromised and worked a deal with the authorities that would allow her to travel under a different name."

Lee stood from the chair, accepting the paper and shaking his head. "He never mentioned this."

"Did you really think he would? It's his sister. He's very protective of her, probably more than she'd like. Lee, he's going to be okay, isn't he?" Standing in front of him, her shoulders fell. "I just don't know if I could live with myself if he…"

"Hey," Lee said, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her in an embrace. "He's going to be fine. It just takes time."

She buried her face into his shoulder and let the tears fall.

"Angie," he said, pulling back from her so he could see her face. "Go see him. He needs to know you're okay. Will you do that? For him?"

Wiping the back of her hand across her face and sniffing, she nodded. "I will. I promise."


	9. Chapter 9

_Sorry for the delay. Stupid real life! As always, thank you for reading and reviewing!_

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Lightly knocking on the door, Angie hesitantly entered the room, surprised to find no Jamie or nurse present. Briefly, she felt apprehensive, as if she were somewhere she shouldn't be, but the nurse at the station just outside his door had told her it would be okay so quietly, she went to his bedside. It helped that he was asleep. She was afraid she'd be unable to meet his gaze without breaking down. This was so much easier and yet, she knew it solved nothing. She'd have to face him at some point. This was the first time she'd seen him since they'd been in that place. Since he was on the floor in front of her, bleeding out from a bullet she'd put in him. Resisting the urge to turn and run, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before very slowly exhaling.

His copper-colored beard was heavier than it had been when she'd last seen him, with a healthy smattering of white along his jaw. She knew he wouldn't like it. He had told her so once when he hadn't been able to shave due to an incident in the lab that left him with several superficial cuts on one side of his face and chin. She had complimented the beard and he had merely scoffed, telling her that he didn't like all the white but she thought a bit of scruff gave him a sexy, boyish look that suited him very well. Still, she couldn't tell him that and unfortunately, she rarely saw him unshaven again.

His left leg rested atop the blanket, elevated by a folded over pillow under his knee, the angry, red wound uncovered, exposing the drain that snaked from beneath his skin at the end of a long train of sutures. The grotesque sight of it, the thought of what that woman had done to him, how it must have felt, made Angie quickly look away. Shaking her head sadly, she couldn't imagine the pain he had to endure.

Yellow betadine still stained his skin, especially around the edges of the bandage that covered most of his right shoulder and part of his chest, combining with the deep purple bruises to create an odd rust color on his skin. Watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, her eyes settled on the thin five-inch cut that trailed in a perfect line from a deep point at the top of his chest down to the middle of his chest. Frowning, Angie was sure this had happened when he was in the room with her but for the life of her she couldn't remember. There was still a part of her memory that was lost and honestly, she wasn't sure she ever wanted it back. She brought her hand up, her fingers hovering above the matted hair on his chest, and longed to touch him, to feel the beat of his heart against her palm. Hesitating, flexing her fingers into a fist, she couldn't do it. Instead, she lightly caressed his forehead, carefully avoiding the steri-strips covering the cut over his left eye and the fading bruises, feeling the heat radiating off his pale skin. This couldn't be normal, she thought. He shouldn't be this warm. She was about to buzz the nurse when she noticed his eyes flutter open.

Feeling the touch of her hand on his skin, he slowly opened his eyes, first staring up at the ceiling then bringing his unfocused gaze to her. And then he panicked. Trying desperately to back away but restrained by the confines of the bed and the numerous tubes and wires, he began to thrash wildly, pulling out the lines going into his hand, the drain going into his leg, and spilling fluids all over the floor and bed. He felt something pop in his shoulder and then a burst of searing pain that only seemed to fuel his fear. Finding his voice, he began to yell out in an eerily frightening tone. "No, please, keep her away! She wants to kill me! Make it stop!"

Alarm bells sounded on the surrounding monitors and as two nurses ran into the room, Angie ran from his room, her hand covering her mouth. She felt sick and it was all she could do to keep the rising bile at bay. This was exactly what she had feared – that he would remember she had tried to kill him. She couldn't stay there any longer; she couldn't stay at the institute. She had to leave Los Gatos, Santa Barbara, and the entire state of California. She had to be as far away from Harriman Nelson as she could possibly be. She had to be someplace where the thought of what she'd done couldn't hurt him anymore and where she could hopefully, one day, forget him.

She left the hospital, passing Kowalski, his hands full of bags, on the way, and walked urgently, purposefully to the hotel. Heading straight for her room, she went to the desk and took out a sheet of hotel stationary. Hastily writing out her thoughts on paper, she re-read it, signed it, folded it, and stuffed it into the matching white linen envelope and scribbled his name on the outside. Smoothing out her skirt as she stood up, she quickly exited the room, stopping two doors down at Lee Crane's room. Not bothering to knock, she slid the envelope under the door and then rushed to the bank of elevators. Once in the lobby, she placed the room key on the desk and hurried out the door, walking briskly until she was several blocks away.

Once she was safely away from the hospital and _him_, she leaned against a brick building, trying to catch her breath as her emotions finally betrayed her and realizing there was only one place for her to go: home. Back to Texas and her family. Back to people who had no idea what had happened to her or what she had done; to people who only remembered her as the tall, skinny, knock-kneed, shy girl who did well in school. Hailing a taxi, she gave instructions to the driver, slid inside, closed the door, and cried.

**-xxx-**

Lee arrived at the admiral's room in time to see him being rushed out the door and down the corridor. Grabbing Jamie's arm, as the doctor hurried along, he felt a rise of panic. "What's wrong? Where are they taking him?"

"Back to the OR. His fever spiked to 104."

"Infection?"

"Yes, likely it's a missed piece of metal so Dr. Cameron is going back in to see if he can find it."

"And if that's not it?"

"Then pray, Lee. Pray his fever comes down and he has no lasting repercussions."

Lee let go of his arm and watched him disappear behind the swinging double doors. Frozen in place as hospital personnel buzzed around him, Lee ran his hand over his hair, completely at a loss. And then a thought occurred to him. Searching for Chief Sharkey and finding him nearby, Lee walked over. "Chief, have you seen Angie? The clerk at the hotel said she was coming here but I don't see her."

"She was here maybe a half hour ago. I saw her go into the admiral's room and then Dixon came up and gave me a break. I hit the head, grabbed a cup of joe and when I got back, all hell had broken loose and she was gone. There's Ray, let's ask him. Hey, Raymundo!" Sharkey called the security supervisor and then waved him over. "Hey, buddy, you happen to see a pretty little brunette, long legs, about" he held up his hand shoulder high, "this tall, come out of Mr. Harrison's room?"

Lee marveled at Sharkey's ability to build a rapport with just about everyone. Then again, the admiral once remarked that Sharkey could be friends with a stick if he thought it would listen to him.

"Yes, I did see her. She lit out of his room like she was on fire. Headed to the elevator. If I didn't recognize her from before, I'd have been suspicious, especially since the alarms started sounding just before she left."

"The alarms?"

"Yes, from the monitors. Apparently, he got agitated and pulled out his lines. That sounds the alarms and alerts the nurses that the patient is in distress. So, they go running in and that's when she left."

"Did she look upset?"

"I couldn't tell. Only saw her from the um, back." The man's face reddened slightly as if he were embarrassed and guilty at the same time. "She could have been. You know, there's cameras all over this place. I can pull the tapes and see if I can find out where she went."

"Do that."

Dixon nodded and headed off on his mission. Despite the aliases, he knew very well who the patient and the tall, lanky man spending most of his days and nights nearby were. He was more than happy to assist any way that he could.

"Where was Doc?"

Sharkey hitched his thumb over his shoulder. "Still at the hotel catching some z's. They paged him when the alarms started going off."

"So she was in there alone?"

"Yeah, Paula, the uh, floor nurse, she said it was okay and I didn't see any harm in it. Did I do something wrong, letting her in there unsupervised? Cause I just thought she might like some time alone with him, seeing what they went through and all."

"No, that's fine." But Lee wondered if it really was. Maybe he was wrong to push her. Maybe she really wasn't ready to see him. Lee had been thinking of the admiral without really giving a thought to how it might affect her.

Sharkey hesitated before speaking up. Something Dixon said had raised a red flag in his mind but the implication of what it might mean, well, he didn't really want to consider it. Still, he felt it was his duty to voice his concern to the captain. Although it was far-fetched, if it was true and he didn't raise the issue, then he would never forgive himself. "Sir, what if Miss Angie was," he paused, choking on what he was about to suggest.

"What is it, chief?"

"Well, what if Miss Angie was given some sort of suggestion by that Parrish woman to somehow hurt the admiral."

"You mean other than shooting him?" Lee didn't mean to sound so terse and he didn't mean to practically shout the question but with Angie possibly missing, the admiral once again fighting for his life, and now Sharkey's suggestion, he wasn't sure how much more he could take. Immediately feeling contrite, Lee shoved both hands into his pockets and let out a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry," he said, although he wasn't really sure who he was apologizing to: Sharkey or Angie for finally stating out loud the thought that he'd spent the last few days trying to suppress.

**-xxx-**

Lee sat on the bed in his hotel room, the receiver plastered to his ear as if it were growing from the side of his head, frowning at the news he was receiving from Chip Morton. Thanks to the tip from Angie, they'd finally located _Edie Merriweather_ however, as she was currently on a cruise ship, sailing around the Greek Islands, they could only leave messages for her. At the rate they were going Lee would have the admiral back in Santa Barbara before they actually spoke to Edith.

"Chip, there's one more thing. Keep an eye out for Angie."

"Angie? I thought she was there with you?"

"She was but something happened earlier at the hospital and now she's missing."

"Missing? You don't think Parrish…"

Lee sighed deeply. "No, it looks like she left on her own. Hospital security cameras show her looking very upset and running out of the lobby. The receptionist at the hotel said she left the key on the desk but didn't check out." Lee casually glanced at an envelope with his name in a woman's handwriting sitting on the desk and then cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. "Hang on a second." Fetching the envelope, he ripped open one end and pulled out the white stationary. His gaze scanned over the contents and went directly to the signature: Angie Moreira. "I found a letter. She must have put it under the door while I was out and housekeeping picked it up." Going back to the top of the letter, he read it once, and then read it again.

"Well, what's it say? Does it say where she is?" Chip knew Lee's silence spoke volumes, none of it good.

"She tendered her resignation from the institute effective immediately. Says she's leaving Santa Barbara."

"Does it say where she's going?"

"No."

"I thought you said she was seeing a psychiatrist and seemed to be getting a little better?"

"I thought she was." Lee read the letter once more, turning it over in his hand, afraid he might have missed some small detail. "I don't understand. Why would she resign?"

"Because she feels responsible?"

"But she's not. She knows that. Something must have happened."

"Are you going to tell him?"

Lee blew a breath into the receiver. He hadn't even thought about that. "I can't tell him this, Chip. I can't. Not yet anyway. Maybe I can get to her before she leaves. Talk some sense into her."

"You can always tell her you're not going to accept her resignation."

"But if she wants to quit, that's not going to stop her. Besides, what can I really do?"

"I don't know buddy. Want me to go by her place later, see if she's there?"

"Yes. And if she's there, ask her if she'll wait until I can get back there. I'd like to talk to her again. See what changed her mind."

"How much longer until the admiral can be transferred down here?"

"Well, until a little while ago, it could have been as soon as the end of this week."

"Could have been? That sounds bad. I thought you said he was getting better?"

"Jamie said he was. But he had a pretty bad infection in his shoulder and spiked a fever. They had to rush him into surgery a few hours ago. Doc says it was a piece of that transmitter. They missed it the first time and it didn't show up on x-rays but he thinks they got it. The admiral's in recovery now but he's still not out of the woods." Lee sighed heavily into the receiver. "Even when one problem is resolved, it seems like another one rears its head. His leg is bad, Chip. He may need more surgery but unless it's an emergency, Doc wants to wait until they get him back to Med Bay."

"Transferring him if he's still got an infection, that could be bad, right?"

"Yes, but Doc thinks letting him recover in surroundings that he's familiar with might help. This infection did a number on him so he needs to get a little stronger before anything can happen."

"This doesn't sound good, Lee. We've got this mission to the Bering Sea coming up. He's been looking forward to it for the last six months. You're going to have to tie him down to keep him off _Seaview_."

"I know but it is what it is. At this point we have to plan on sailing without him." Lee had no sooner hung up with Chip when the telephone rang. Hoping for news of Angie, he quickly grabbed up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Lee, Monty. I tracked down your girl."

"Is she okay?" With Lydia Parrish still out there, Lee's first concern was for Angie's safety.

"Well, I haven't actually seen her – I just know where she went and how she got there."

"And?"

"She took a taxi to the rental car place, rented a car – charged it to the institute - and drove back to Santa Barbara. She's not at her apartment so maybe she has a girlfriend, a sister, someone she might be staying with?"

Lee realized that apart from her job at the institute and that she had originally moved to California from Texas, he really didn't know much about her. She could have had family in the area but if so, she never mentioned them around him. Maybe the admiral knew. But that would require Lee telling him that she'd left and while inevitable, it wasn't a conversation he was prepared to have just yet. A thought occurred to Lee, one that might buy him some time but would certainly not make Angie happy. He didn't think the admiral would approve either.

"Monty, you said she charged the rental car to the institute?"

"Yeah, seems N.I.M.R. has an account with them."

"If she resigned effective immediately, then she's no longer an employee."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Can you do it?"

"That's not really my jurisdiction but I can call Santa Barbara PD and have her held for theft and fraud."

Lee hated taking this route but he couldn't think of any other option. Closing his eyes and gripping the phone tightly, he said through clenched teeth, "Okay, do that." Hanging up the phone, he immediately felt awful and hoped she would forgive him.

**-xxx-**

Will Jamieson looked over the chart as his patient opened first one eye, then the other, squinting against the bright overhead lights. Jamieson moved into his line of sight and put his hand on the Admiral's shoulder. "Do you remember where you are?" he asked, seeing the puzzled look on his patient's face.

Nodding his head, he asked, "Angie?" Although he'd been off the ventilator, they'd had to insert a tracheal tube when they'd rushed him back into surgery, leaving him with barely any voice at all.

Doc could barely understand him but he knew the question. "She's okay."

Nelson tried to lift himself up to get a better look. "Where?"

Doc gently urged him to lie back down. "She's at the hotel resting. Remember?" Between the initial blood loss, the multiple surgeries, and the high fever that had accompanied the infection, Jamie was concerned about short term memory loss. It also troubled Jamie that he hadn't exactly told him the truth about Angie but given that he didn't know where she was at the moment, at least it wasn't an outright lie. Still, it had been six hours since she'd last been seen leaving the hospital and Jamie was worried. He just hoped the admiral was still out of it enough that he wouldn't dwell on it.

Nelson seemed to accept that answer, nodding as his head sank into the pillow. For the first time in days he was lucid, the fog he'd been in slowly dissipating. If only his throat didn't hurt. "Lee?"

"He went back to Santa Barbara to take care of some business. He'll be back soon. Here, take some water." Jamie held the cup and straw to Nelson's lips while the man quickly drained the water. Setting the cup down, he took a pen from his pocket.

The admiral lifted his head, straining to see his heavily bandaged shoulder and chest. Laboring under the effort, his head went back to the pillows. Peering up at the ceiling, he said, "I was shot?"

Doc came over to the side of the bed, his hand resting on the rolling table. "Yes, you were shot." Doc could see the wheels turning and wondered if he could remember or if he was still trying to put the pieces together. "The bullet destroyed the device Parrish inserted, the one she used to torture you, however, the pieces scattered. There was quite a bit of muscle and tissue damage, not to mention a couple of broken bones and a collapsed lung. But incredibly," Doc dragged his hand over the back of his neck, "that device probably kept you from bleeding out. It saved your life."

"Don't think that's what she expected." One corner of his mouth hitched up in what could have almost been a smile. "Angie's a pretty good shot."

Doc smiled. He remembered.

"That why she's avoiding me?"

Rolling the pen over in his hand, Doc took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "As you might imagine, she's having a hard time dealing with everything that happened."

"Not her fault."

Doc refilled the cup and brought it to him once again, watching as he quickly drained the contents. Setting aside the cup, he walked around to the other side of the bed. "I want to see how bad the residual nerve damage is so I need you to tell me if you can feel this." He gently dragged the capped end of the pen from the top of Nelson's right shoulder down to the back of his hand.

Slowly, Nelson shook his head. He couldn't feel anything.

Not yet discouraged, Doc tried again, this time with a firmer touch.

Again, Nelson shook his head.

"Can you wiggle your fingers for me?"

One by one, the Admiral lifted each finger then clenched his hand into a fist.

"Well, that's a good sign." Jamieson said it more to be encouraging than anything else. As it stood now, he could jab the pen into the admiral's forearm and he wouldn't feel a thing but at least there was no paralysis. Checking the lines going into the back of Nelson's right hand, Jamie then moved to the other side of the bed and carefully lifted the light blanket, exposing the admiral's left thigh and the bandage covering it. Placing his hand on the leg and pressing firmly, he was relieved to see the skin pink up when he removed it but pursed his lips at the heat radiating off the sutured wound. Scanning the chart and scribbling a few notes, Jamie frowned at the slightly elevated temperature. This was more in line with what he expected to see but still somewhat worrisome. Setting aside the chart and once again using the pen cap, Jamie dragged the end along the inside of his thigh from the knee up to the edge of the wound. "Same drill. Feel anything?"

"No."

"Okay," Jamie moved the cap so it was on the outside of his thigh. "Can you feel that?"

"Yes."

"Say stop when the feeling goes away." Jamie dragged the cap from the outside of Nelson's leg towards the wound.

"Stop," Nelson said.

Doc looked down, noting that he was a few inches away from the bandage.

"Is it bad?"

"Not entirely. Dr. Cameron believes you will get the feeling back in your arm and your leg. It's just going to take some time. However…"

"There's always a _however_."

Jamie smiled. "Seems that way, doesn't it?" Seeing the look on Harry's face, the dread that he might not walk again, Jamie realized he needed to give him the good news first. "It won't affect your ability to walk. You should be up and about in no time." And now the bad news. "Unfortunately, unlike in your arm, the nerve in your leg was damaged so it's going to take a little more time before you get that feeling back."

He was relieved to hear the news but right now, he wished the numbness extended to the all-encompassing pain that never seemed to end.

"Admiral, I hate to ask but did Lydia Parrish do this to you?" Jamie saw the grimace and got his answer.

At the sound of her name, Harry closed his eyes, remembering. "She wanted information." He shook his head emphatically back and forth. "I couldn't tell her." Opening his eyes, he looked directly at Jamie. "I would have told her. To save Angie, I would have told her anything. But I didn't…don't know." Feeling the urgent need to find Angie, he tried to lift himself from the bed only to feel an immediate stab in his shoulder that caused a sharp intake of breath.

Jamie was quickly at his side, his hand on his left shoulder. "Hey, hey, none of that. You need to lie back."

"Need to tell her how sorry I am. I couldn't help her."

Seeing the anguish on the man's face, Jamie wished there was something more he could do or say ease the obvious guilt. The grief turned into a grimace and while Jamie couldn't help with the mental pain, at least he could do something for the physical pain. Increasing the morphine, he gave the admiral a gentle pat on the arm. "Better?"

Harry nodded but truth be told, it wasn't better. Most of his body felt as if it were on fire, with pain radiating from his upper thigh to his left hip, his groin, and across his middle, then over the right side of his chest and shoulder. But he wasn't going to complain. Angie had been hurt, perhaps irreparably, and he was responsible. The pain was his penance for failing her.

Adjusting the blanket and then raising the bed rail, Doc said, "Give it a few minutes to kick in."

Nelson's eyelids grew heavy. "Not going anywhere, am I?"

Over the last ten days Jamie had gotten no argument from one of his worst patients. The fact that so far Nelson had not once argued spoke volumes. "Not yet but soon enough. If we can stave off infection and your lungs are clear, then I'm going to give Captain Crane the green light to get you back to Santa Barbara."

One corner of Nelson's mouth quirked up and "home," was the last thing he said before falling into a heavily drug-induced sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

_I'd like to thank everyone who has been reading this fic and especially those who have taken the time to leave a review (and with special thanks to Nans and Mila, who I can't thank privately). I very much appreciate it and quite honestly, it's pretty inspiring! And finally a very grateful shout-out to my friend, N, who gave me some excellent beta help! _

* * *

"You had me arrested?" The rather incredulous question was asked in a very irate voice by a very angry woman. She was standing in the lobby of the Santa Barbara Police Station while Lee Crane signed the papers for her release. "I can't believe you had me arrested!"

Lee Crane knew the young woman had a temper. He'd seen her fury unleashed once before when a pushy botanist had insisted on barging unannounced into the admiral's office. Angie had very nearly forechecked the man and then gave him a verbal lashing that left the botanist backing out of the office, apologizing profusely. At the time Lee had hoped to never be on the receiving end of her anger. He wished now he had remembered that. Ushering her by the elbow towards the door, persisting even when she brushed him off, he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do to get you to stay."

"Asking would have been a start. I can't believe you had me arrested!"

"I read your letter. You seemed to be hell-bent on leaving. I wanted to talk to you before you left." They were outside now, in the shadows of palm trees and puffy, white clouds. "Angie, I know you went to his room and something happened that upset you."

Brushing off his hand once and for all, she huffed. "Nothing happened." She was walking at a brisk pace, to where she had no idea.

Jogging ahead of her, Lee came to a stop in front of her, essentially blocking her way. "Angie, please."

"No, Lee. I know what you're going to say and you're wrong. I hurt him, don't you see? I remind him of her and every time he sees me, he'll remember what happened. I won't do that to him and I won't do that to myself."

"Please tell me what happened."

"I told you, nothing happened."

"Something happened. Something made you run away."

"Is that what he thinks? That I ran away from him?" She hated that he might think that of her, that she'd run away from him, but it was true.

"No, he doesn't think that. He doesn't know that you left Los Gatos actually."

"You haven't told him?" She was angry again, leveling an accusatory scowl his way, making Lee realize the admiral wasn't the only one who could cast a withering glare.

"Doc's afraid if we tell him it'll just make his recovery that much slower."

"So not only am I responsible for shooting him, I'm also responsible for him not getting better." She needed to sit down somewhere, anywhere, before her legs gave out. Thankfully, there was a vacant bench near the bus stop.

"No, of course not." He sat down next to her, the breeze ruffling his hair. "It's just, well, he feels responsible for what happened to you and in his mind the fact that you haven't been by to see him just exacerbates that."

"But that's not true. Not at all!"

"He doesn't know that."

"You could tell him. He'll listen to you. I know he did everything he could. She had him chained up like an animal but he tried to fight. He told me to tell them everything I could remember and I did. I thought it would help but it didn't. They were going to kill me but something changed her mind." Her hands rested in her lap, her hands fidgeting.

Lee could tell by the look on her face that she was there in that room relaying everything as she remembered it.

"She gave me a shot of something that made my heart race so fast I thought it was going to kill me." She tilted her head, remembering some specific detail that she hadn't before. "I thought it was me but it was him," she said, distantly.

Confused by her disjointed words, Lee was confused. "What was him?"

"The cry. It was like nothing I'd ever heard before. Agonizing and sickening." She turned to look at Lee. "That must have been when she stabbed him. My God, Lee no wonder he's afraid of me." She stood up from the bench and walked away, turning the corner and disappearing from view.

And this time Lee Crane did nothing to stop her.

**Santa Barbara – Three Days Later**

Nelson leaned heavily against the railing, looking out at the ocean, the breeze ruffling his auburn hair, as the distant sound of the surf crashed against the rocky shore. The tide was going out and soon the tidal pools would be exposed, stranding starfish and anemones until the sea returned to claim them. The simple pleasure of walking along the beach - he missed that. If Lydia Parrish had wanted to hurt him, she well and truly had succeeded. She'd banished him to land for the foreseeable future and had taken away everything he held in esteem: the institute, _Seaview_, Angie. He was Doctor Jamieson's captive now, destined to spend the next four to six weeks resting, recuperating, and rehabbing. And when he returned to the institute, what then? Would Angie even be there? She hadn't been to see him. She hadn't called. And despite his numerous questions, all he'd ever been told was that she was taking some time off. Deep down, he knew it was a lie. They were trying to protect him but he'd had enough! He wanted to know the truth. If she couldn't look at him, couldn't bear to be around him, then he wanted, no, he needed to know.

Looking but not seeing the bright morning sunshine glint off the approaching waves, he heard the swish of the door as it opened and closed. Not bothering to turn around, he knew by the sound of the footsteps who it wasn't.

"You're not supposed to be out of bed, on your feet, or out here." Jamie had gotten a call that the admiral was missing. Fortunately, he knew where to look. The Med Bay at N.I.M.R. had one of the best views of the coast and Nelson knew where to find a quiet place to enjoy it. Given the amount of time he'd spent at Med Bay, Doc was convinced that the admiral had the area designed as his own personal escape. Noticing the wheelchair off to the side, and knowing how difficult it was for him to get out of bed, much less wheel himself down the long corridor with only one good arm, Jamie suspected he'd had help making his escape in the form of one Francis Sharkey. Being in the wheelchair wasn't really an issue but being on his feet was.

"Apparently, I'm not supposed to be a lot of things but I am." He let out a deep breath, wincing at the catch, and yearned for a cigarette. "She left, didn't she?"

"Yes. She turned in her resignation to Lee when we were still in Los Gatos. Both Lee and I tried to change her mind but she's convinced you'll still make the association. She thinks it's best to leave." Jamie had expected some sort of argument, a rant, a protest, anything that said he'd fight to keep her. Instead there was nothing. So at the risk of having his own head handed to him, Jamie tried another tactic. "You know she's in love with you, don't you?"

"Yes."

Jamie saw the involuntary shudder in Nelson's shoulders and frowned. He'd hoped the tremors would stop by now. "And you? How do you feel about her?"

This time he did turn around so quickly he nearly lost his balance, waving off Jamie when he'd started towards him. Putting a hand on his chest, feeling the pull of the stitches and the ensuing pain, he grimaced. "How I feel about her is irrelevant," he said, his face pinched.

It went completely against all of Jamie's medical training not to force Nelson back into the wheelchair and take him inside but he couldn't do it. Not yet anyway. Jamie saw beneath the pained expression, saw the sorrow etched in the lines in his face, and realized that despite what he said, it had everything to do with how he felt about her. His simple question had exposed something that Nelson had been struggling with for quite some time. His heart and his conscience were waging an internal war and his heart was losing.

"It is relevant. If you want something, you fight for it. I've never known you to give up so easily."

"Obviously, this is what she wants. I'm not going to ask her to stay if she doesn't want to."

Doc crossed his arms. "Stubborn."

Nelson cocked an eyebrow, letting Jamie know he was giving him a long leash but he shouldn't run too far with it.

Ignoring him, feeling a sense of exasperated annoyance at the man's apparent passive acceptance, Jamie stood his ground and glared back. "You didn't answer the question. How do you feel about her?"

Nelson frowned but not for the reasons Jamie might have thought. He'd been on his feet too long and now his already throbbing leg was logging vehement protests. He needed to sit down but he didn't want Jamie to know. The doctor would just send him back to bed, back to four white walls that reminded him too much of that room. Leaning against the railing and managing to take some of the weight off his left leg, he looked past Jamieson at the large, pink hibiscus next to the building. "I care for her a great deal."

Ordinarily Jamie wouldn't have pushed him. He'd already gotten one visual warning and regardless what kind of physical shape the admiral was in, he still signed Jamie's paycheck. But there was an undercurrent here, one that needed to be exposed for the sake of two people. So Jamie asked again, bracing himself for the possible explosion. "But do you love her?"

It never came. Instead, Nelson tugged on his earlobe, silent for a long time as he thought about the question. He'd pleaded for her life, offering to give them whatever they wanted. Was it love, guilt, or just a sense of duty that drove him? Whatever it was, he wasn't ready to confess it to Dr. Jamieson. "I don't know. But if she wants to leave, I won't stop her. Please tell Captain Crane not to press the issue and accept her resignation. I'll write her a letter of recommendation as well."

Jamie let out an audible sigh. He had a deep respect for the admiral, considered him a good friend. But there were times that he wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. This was one of those times. "So you're just going to let her go and wash your hands of it?"

Shuddering as another tremor hit him, Nelson slowly turned his gaze to the doctor's. "Will, this is what she wants. I put her in a situation that got her hurt and quite correctly, she holds me responsible."

Jamie shook his head. "She doesn't hold you responsible. She shot you. If anything, she feels responsible for nearly killing you."

"Is that why she was avoiding me? Did she think that I would hold that against her?" The revelation hit him full force, taking the air from his lungs. Turning away from Jamie, he leaned heavily on the railing. "Tell me the truth, Will. Is that what she thought?"

Jamie had talked to Lee. He knew it was more complicated than a simple yes or no answer. But he also knew he couldn't speak for Angie. "I don't know. I never got the chance to speak to her." And that was the honest truth.

"She never came to visit me and now she's made it very clear that she wants to leave. I'm not going to try to change her mind."

Frustrated, Jamie wanted to lay into the man, tell him all the reasons he should fight for her, but seeing the dark circles under his eyes, the slump in his shoulders, it suddenly became apparent that this was not a decision to appease Angie. Her decision to leave, especially without saying good-bye, hurt him deeply and now he was trying to distance himself. From the look of it though, he was failing miserably.

Jamie was about to give up when something the admiral said narrowed his eyes. "But she did visit you." He said the thought out loud and then looked at the admiral, seeing confused blue eyes looking back at him. "She did visit you. It was just before that infection in your shoulder blew up and we had to rush you back to surgery."

He shook his head. "No, I would have remembered."

"Harry, your temperature was 104. You were delirious. You couldn't have remembered your own name."

"Why didn't she come back?"

"Because she left Los Gatos. She left her resignation with Lee and drove herself back here."

"Why? Something must have happened!" The brief exertion sent another jag of pain through his chest.

This time Jamie stepped forward, reaching out to put his hand on the man's shoulder. "You need to sit down."

He shrugged off Jamie's hand with a terse, "I'm fine."

Shaking his head, Jamie silently cursed the bull-headedness of a certain four-star admiral. "If something happened, she wouldn't tell us. She just said that she needed to leave."

"Did she say where she's going?"

"Back to Texas where her family is."

_She needed to leave_. Obviously, she needed to be as far away from him as possible. "Has she already left?"

"I believe she's flying out in the morning." Jamie looked at Harry expectantly, almost willing him to say he'd like to see her before she left. If that were the case, Jamie would personally drive him over. Instead, all the got from the man was silence.

Standing as straight as he could, he turned his back to Jamie, returning his gaze to the ocean. "If you talk to her, please tell her," he stopped, closing his eyes, gathering his thoughts. "Please thank her for her service." Pursing his lips together, he lowered his head. "And tell her that I will miss her very much."

**-xxx-**

Angie Moreira sat in the passenger seat of the sedan, silently watching the endless rows of crops through the rolled up window and grateful for air conditioning. She'd been happy to see her sister-in-law, Gayle, and her nephew when they met her at the airport in Corpus Christi but now thoughts of him, of leaving without at least saying good-bye, dominated her mind, just as they had since she'd left Santa Barbara. She knew she'd done the right thing - the pros outweighed the cons – but she couldn't shake the feeling that she had run away or what he must think about her now.

She knew she had to put that life behind her, start a new life here in South Texas, surrounded by people who loved her; people who didn't know or care about her past. Maybe she could reconnect with an old boyfriend, settle down, and raise a family. That's what she was supposed to do, wasn't it? Not waste her time on man who didn't love her.

"Hey? Are you okay? You haven't said much."

Angie turned away from the window and forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just thinking."

"You never mentioned why you decided to leave Santa Barbara. I thought you had a really good job at some research place working for that admiral."

_That admiral._ Yes, she'd made the right choice. "I had a very good job working for Admiral Nelson but you know, I just thought it was time for a change."

"Well, we're glad you're back, aren't we, Nathan?"

"Yes!" the boy answered, emphatically. "You get to stay in our guest bedroom. Mommy says you're not a guest though. You're family!"

"That's right," Gayle said, the sadness etched in her sister-in-laws' face not going unnoticed. There was a story to tell but nothing she'd question now. Maybe later, over a bottle of wine when the boy was asleep. "You're family and you can stay as long as you like."

"Thank you," Angie said, her gaze returning to the endless rows of crops and her thoughts preoccupied by the man she'd left behind.

**-xxx-**

Sitting in an airport lounge, the blonde woman crossed one leg over the other, letting one red Etienne Aigner pump dangle off her heel, and sipped her rum and coke.

"What do you do, Miss?"

Leveling her gaze on the gentleman asking the question and smiling sweetly, she said, "I look for things, I extract what I want, and then I dispose of them."

The smile on the man's face quickly faded as the image of a barracuda flashed through his mind. Getting up from his seat, he hurried across the lounge to a place as far away from her as possible.

Picking up his abandoned copy of the Santa Barbara Press, she leafed through paper, her gaze fixing on page two. He was wearing the dark uniform, his expression not a smile yet not smug. Several years ago, she would have thought he was very handsome. Now she found the sight of him loathsome. Scanning down the brief article, she found all she needed to know. He was alive. The stupid secretary couldn't even accomplish one simple task.

Tossing aside the paper and balling her hands into fists, she stood from her chair, and straightened her skirt. "This isn't over," she said to no one in particular as she exited the lounge and disappeared into the throng of hurried travelers, the click of her heels echoing on the tile floor.

**-End-**

_Please don't hate me. I know this ending will make some of you (most of you) very unhappy but it's how I always planned to end it. Rest assured though, there will be a sequel and like Lydia Parrish says, this isn't over. _


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